


Scenes From the Cutting Room Floor: Season One

by SupernaturalPrincess9



Series: Scenes From the Cutting Room Floor [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester UST, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 25,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalPrincess9/pseuds/SupernaturalPrincess9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My interpretation of the scenes we didn't see on the show. At least one scene (extended or new) for every episode in the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Woman in White (Pilot)

**Author's Note:**

> This series is 100% in sync with canon events/people/places. It can be read as a stand-alone story or be read in conjunction with watching the episodes. Most scenes are postlude - either an extension of the last scene or a new scene. Any scenes that are pre-episode are noted as "prelude" and any scenes that occur at some point during the episode are noted as "intermission".

Sam and Dean stood outside of Sam’s apartment complex, their bodies pressed tightly together, as the firefighters finished dousing the flames. What was left of Jessica’s body was still inside somewhere, waiting for the ME and CSI team to do their work.

A detective approached the brothers. “Uh… Mr. Winchester?” Both Sam and Dean looked at the older man dressed in street clothes that had seen better days. “I’m Detective Frank Wood. I’d like to speak with you for a moment, if I may?” 

The detective had piercing blue eyes that held a great amount of compassion for what the boys had been through.

Sam cleared his throat. “I’m Sam… I live… uh, lived there with Jessica.” Dean put his hand on his brother’s shoulder to steady him.

The detective looked at Sam with sympathy. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I know you’ve already made a statement. I just want to verify a couple of details. Is that ok?”

Sam looked at Dean for strength. Dean could see that Sam was close to tears, so he took a step forward, shielding Sam a bit with his body in a practiced move from years gone by. His hand still rested protectively on Sam’s shoulder. “Detective, my brother’s been through an awful lot tonight, any chance this could wait until tomorrow?”

Detective Wood looked at the older boy. He could see Sam’s brother was wound up, ready to protect his brother if he needed to. “It’s just a couple of questions.” Detective Wood smiled reassuringly. “I promise it won’t take five minutes.” 

Sam stepped forward, causing Dean’s hand to slip from his shoulder. “I can do it.” Sam stated, his voice shaky with grief and emotion. Dean didn’t like the separation Sam’s step had caused so he stepped forward, too. His hand brushed Sam’s and without thinking, Dean threaded his fingers through Sam’s. He smiled sadly when Sam’s fingers tightened around his. He was glad to be with Sam but hated what his brother had to endure in losing Jessica like this.

The detective had seen Dean take Sam’s hand in his. He thought the younger man was lucky to have such a rock-steady brother to go through life with. “Ok… so, in your statement, you said you arrived home and stopped to grab a cookie and then you went back into the bedroom and laid back on the bed to rest, is that right?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And Jessica… she was in the shower?”

Sam looked the detective in the eye. “Yes, sir… she had been but when she heard me come home, she jumped out to say hello.” Sam knew that last statement and everything that came out of his mouth from this point going forward would be a lie.

“Can you tell me what happened next?” The detective asked, verifying the notes of the police officer who took the statement.

“I went to the kitchen to grab the cookies Jessica made so we could have a snack together… while I was out there, I heard a ‘whump’ like sound and then smelled smoke. I ran back into the bedroom… and it looked like there was some kind of flash-over… or something… and there were flames everywhere… and she was… she was…” Sam’s eyes welled with tears and he was overcome with grief.

Dean tugged Sam to him and wrapped his arm around Sam. Sam turned and buried his face in Dean’s neck like he had when he was hurt as a child. “That’s about the time I got there, sir.” Dean said, his voice strong and sure.

The detective looked at Sam’s older brother. He checked his notes. Dean was his name. “Ok, Dean. And then what happened?”

Dean rubbed his hand up and down Sam’s back as Sam cried softly in his arms. “I ran into the bedroom and saw Sam trying to grab Jessica… but she was… already gone. So I charged in and grabbed Sam, pulling him away from the fire. He kept trying to go back, but I could see it was too late so I threw him over my shoulder and carried him down here and then called 9-1-1.”

That part was missing from Sam’s statement, so the detective made some notes in the margin. “Thanks, Dean. One last question. Sam said you had dropped him off. Why did you come back?”

Dean had an answer at the ready. “Sam had left one of his bags in the backseat. I happened to notice it when I was at the stoplight so I turned around and came back.”

Sam knew he hadn’t left a bag in the backseat. Although he was still emotionally distraught, it made him wonder why Dean really had returned. At some point, he’d have to ask him.

Detective Wood nodded at Dean. “Ok. I think that does it. Thanks to you both. Mr. Winche… Sam, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Sam turned his head but didn’t let go of Dean. “Thank you, sir.”

The detective nodded at the boys and then left to join other emergency personnel.

Dean turned and pulled Sam into a proper hug. “I’m right here, Sammy. It’s gonna be ok.” Dean held Sam tightly, trying to give him the comfort he knew his brother needed.

After a few moments, Sam pulled away and gave Dean a sad smile. “Thanks, Dean. I’m glad you’re here.” Sam and Dean stood and continued to watch the activities outside of what used to be Sam’s home. When Sam could bear the sight no longer, he turned around and went to the back of the Impala. Dean quickly followed Sam to where he’d flung his duffels.

“Can you open the trunk?” Sam asked. Dean went to the trunk and unlocked it, letting the internal mechanisms hold the trunk open. Sam laid a few items in amongst the weapons in the hidden compartment and then threw a duffel in the main section. With a look of determination on his face, Sam gazed into the trunk of the Impala and said, “We’ve got work to do.” 

He slammed the trunk shut and brushed past Dean, moving quickly to the passenger side of the car. Dean’s eyes followed Sam’s movements, his brows drawn together with worry and concern. 

Sam, unaware of Dean’s scrutiny, wrenched open the door and slid inside the car. Dean sighed softly and moved slowly to take his usual position in the driver’s seat, giving Sam a few extra seconds to get settled.

Sam didn’t look at Dean as he started the car. Dean cleared his throat and said softly, “Hey… Sammy…” Dean rubbed his thumb on the steering wheel, measuring his next words. “This wasn’t your fault. I know you’re blaming yourself for Jessica’s death… but it’s not on you, man.” 

Sam looked over at Dean, who was now staring out at the night sky through the windshield. It wasn’t dark enough to hide the fact that his eyes had the glazed look he always got when he was full of emotion but unable to let any of it out. 

Sam closed his eyes briefly and let out a small puff of air. In the shadows, he moved his hand over and laid it on Dean’s arm, waiting for Dean to meet his gaze. When Dean finally did, Sam looked deep into his eyes and said, “Yeah? Well it’s not on you either. Do you think I don’t know you’re sitting there blaming yourself for taking me away for the weekend to find Dad? C’mon, Dean. I’m not stupid.” Sam squeezed Dean’s arm gently and folded his hands in his lap, turning his gaze to the road in front of them.   
“Let’s just drive.”

Dean nodded and cranked up the music as he shifted the car into Drive and headed east. He knew this little conversation resolved nothing. They’d both feel the way they felt until they didn’t feel that way any longer. He supposed they’d even have to have the same conversation all over again at some point, knowing how stubborn they both were. 

Dean shook his head with a wry smirk at their predictability and stepped on the gas.


	2. Wendigo

Sam and Dean grabbed their gear out of the trunk of the Impala and hauled it into the motel room. Dean, by default, took the bed closest to the door while Sam automatically went to the other bed. He threw his bag on the bed and then spun around to look at Dean, who was already stripping out of his clothes, preparing to crawl into bed. 

“Bathroom.” Sam said sternly. Dean was in nothing but his boxers. When he’d been facing away, Sam had let his eyes travel his brother’s form. He looked good. Really good. He was tan and his muscles had definition. Sam couldn’t believe how good Dean looked when all he did was shove junk food in his face all day. It wasn’t fair. 

Of course, having deep green eyes and long lashes and a nearly perfectly symmetrical face wasn’t fair either, but Sam had brains… so that was something to celebrate… until Sam admitted to himself that Dean was nearly as smart as he was and a genius in so many other ways.

Sam sighed.

Dean pursed his lips in a pout. “Aw, c’mon Sammy… I was nearly eaten by a Wendigo. I’m wiped out and just want to go to sleep.” Dean wished he could throw some of Sam’s patented puppy dog eyes back at him in order to get his way… but he wasn’t gifted in the pleading look department. Anger? He could totally do anger. Pleading and soulful? Nah… he couldn’t pull it off. 

Dean tried batting his eyelashes at Sam. He could at least do that.

Sam rolled his eyes in response. “Bathroom, Dean.” Sam put some manly man gruffness behind his words, leaving no room for arguing.

Dean looked into his brother’s eyes and saw he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Dean sighed and turned around, heading to the bathroom. Sometimes with Sam, it was just easier to give in. “I just want you to know that I’m doing this under duress.” One last little protest wouldn’t hurt.

Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and guided him into the bathroom. With a smirk he said, “Yeah, yeah. I know.” 

Sam squeezed Dean’s shoulders before letting go. Dean’s skin was so soft… and his deltoids were really quite impressive. Sam had liked the way Dean felt underneath his fingers. And when he realized that, he closed his eyes briefly and wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

Dean flipped the seat of the toilet down and got comfortable on it. “Ok, Sammy. Do your worst.” 

Dean’s shoulders were tingling where Sam’s fingers had squeezed in. He figured he was dehydrated or delirious from being strung up in a Wendigo den. He seriously hoped to not be in that situation again… or at least any time soon.

Sam worked at cleaning all of Dean’s wounds; cuts, scrapes, the occasional claw mark, two of which required Sam to do some field dressings that involved Super Glue. Not Dean’s favorite, but certainly quick and efficient when compared to stitches.

Sam carefully inspected every inch of skin. Dean winced as the antiseptic burned him from time to time. Sam tried to keep himself from chuckling each time Dean reacted. It just struck him as funny that someone as bad ass as Dean would still wince at the burn of antiseptic.

Dean caught one of Sam’s less well covered chuckles. “You think it’s funny little brother? That shit burns, ok?” And his shoulders still tingled where Sam had touched him… but Dean wasn’t about to mention that. 

To anyone. 

Ever.

Sam smirked and then put on an overly empathetic facial expression that contained just a hint of puppy dog eyes. “Poor baby. Let me hold you.” Sam gathered Dean in his arms and held him close, making big petting gestures and rocking Dean. “Shhhh. It’ll be ok.” 

As Sam was petting Dean’s shirtless back, he quickly became aware of the way Dean’s skin and muscles felt beneath his hand. He had the urge to stop mock petting Dean and to really take his time, running his hands up and down Dean’s back in long, slow strokes.

_Oh shit – what?_ is what Sam thought to himself. He immediately put the smirk back on his face and cooed at Dean as though he were a baby to cover up the strange reaction he’d just had.

Dean inhaled Sam’s musk and smiled to himself, thinking of how long that scent had made him think of home and comfort. And love. Nostalgia put aside, Dean shoved Sam away from him. “Let me go you enormous freak!”

Sam took a couple of steps back, laughing. “You got your big boy pants on now, Dean?” Sam snickered.

Dean smiled back at Sam, thinking about how good it was to see Sam laugh and show a little bit of his former sassiness so soon after what had happened to Jessica. Dean’s heart really went out to Sam and how hard every day must be for him. 

But for right now, Sam was ok, so Dean flipped him the bird. “Bitch.”

Sam’s eyes followed Dean as he exited the bathroom. His eyes traveled down Dean’s back and then inadvertently spent a little time appreciating the way Dean’s muscles moved under his boxers. “Jerk.” Sam said abruptly as thoughts of what a great ass Dean had floated through his mind.

Dean looked back at Sam as he crawled into bed. “Thanks for tending to me, Sammy.” Dean furrowed his brows slightly. He could have sworn Sam’s eyes were looking low – like ass level low – when he’d turned around to thank him. Dean shook his head a little to clear his brain. There’s no way Sam had been checking out his ass. Had to still be perception problems or slow responses due to being strung up earlier in the day.

Sam smiled back at his brother, meeting Dean’s eyes with his own. “You’re welcome.” Sam paused briefly and then said, “Night, Dean.”

Sam went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He wondered what the hell was wrong with him… looking at Dean’s ass like that. Good Angel Sammy on one shoulder insisted it was innocent appraisal of someone who had filled out since last time Sam had seen him. Bad Devil Sammy on the other shoulder insisted that Dean had a fine ass, whether he was Sam’s brother or not.

Sam spit out his mouthwash and decided that both angels and devils sucked. He was going with the third option… he was just making sure that Dean didn’t have any other wounds – it was an instinctive appraisal on his part after years of tending to Dean’s wounds.

The fact that his cock had responded a little to the visual stimuli was irrelevant and not for further thought or consideration.

Sam went to his bed and slid beneath the sheets. Dean was already asleep. It was a long while before Sam was able to sleep, too.


	3. Dead in the Water

With one last look at Lucas and his mom in the rearview mirror, Dean pulled onto the main road and headed for the interstate. Metallica filled the car with guitar riffs as Dean did his best to leave thoughts of Lucas behind.

Little kids experiencing trauma always got to Dean, for two reasons mostly. Number one, because at some point every day, at least once he would remember the night of the fire – his mom’s death – his dad telling him to take Sammy and run out of the house as fast as he could – the smell of burning flesh and the agony on his dad’s face… and the overwhelming sense of fear.

Number two… Sam. Sam may have been too little to remember details of that night… but he’d had a pretty traumatic upbringing. They both had. And so whenever Dean encountered a kid in trouble… he always put in just a little extra effort to help him or her.

It was his duty, as he saw it. As it happens, Dean figured a lot of things belonged in the category of “his duty”. Keeping Sammy safe was at the top of the list.

Normally, Dean would be singing along to Unforgiven, but Sam didn’t hear a peep out of him. He looked over at Dean and tried to evaluate his state of mind. While Dean didn’t actually know any children, he’d always taken care of Sam from the time he was a baby… when Dean had practically been a baby himself. Sam had noticed many times over the years just how much more Dean cared when they were on a hunt in which kids were involved.

If Sam had to guess… it was the kid and what he’d gone through that was weighing heavily on Dean. Now Sam’s decision was… force Dean to talk or let him deal with it by himself?

They drove in silence for several miles. When Sam noticed that Dean still wasn’t singing, he reached over and turned down the tunes, having made his decision. Dean was going to talk.

“Hey! That’s my favorite tune, man. What are you doing?” Dean groused. In all actuality, Dean had no idea what tune was playing but whenever Sam reached over and turned down the volume of the radio it meant Sam had decided they should have a talk. About their _feelings_. Like a couple of friggin’ girls.

Dean sighed. Once Sam had made up his mind about talking though, there was no getting out of it. No matter what he tried. Dean knew already he was going to lose this particular battle.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at Dean. “Favorite tune, huh? Tell me what song was playing.” Sam challenged Dean, knowing full well Dean would get the answer wrong. Sam would, of course, gloat. At least internally.

Dean scrunched his brows together, trying hard to remember. Man, he hated when Sam got like this. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings. Maybe… if he got it right, Sam would let him go back to just driving. Sans talking. Dean guessed desperately, hoping for a miracle. “It was… Unforgiven!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah dude. That was like 5 songs ago. Nice attempt. It was Enter Sandman. You gonna tell me what’s on your mind?”

Dean gave Sam his best smile, the one that almost reached his eyes. “Nothing, Sammy. I am A-OK. Couldn’t be better.” Dean reached for the volume control and Sam slapped his hand away.

“Yeah – so let me restate that. You _are_ going to tell me what’s on your mind. C’mon… talk to me.” Sam put on his best puppy eyes and used them to implore his brother to speak. Dean had been amazing since Jessica had died… Sam just wanted to return the favor when talking might help Dean process whatever was eating at him.

Dean glanced at Sam and groaned. Goddamned puppy dog eyes. Why the fuck did his brother have to have that one very impossible to resist skill? “Sammy – stop with the eyes. I’m fine.”

Sam didn’t stop and Dean eventually gave in with a sigh, just as he’d known he would. “It’s just that kid – Lucas. Connecting with him brought back memories of losing Mom… and now we can’t find Dad. I don’t know… I just feel a little lost… maybe a little alone… or lonely. I don’t know which.” Dean kept his gaze straight ahead as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

Sam fought the hurt that Dean’s statement caused in him. If Dean were feeling alone or lonely… that didn’t mean Sam wasn’t enough… did it? Maybe he wasn’t enough. Maybe Dean only needed him until they found their father… and then maybe Dean would go off and leave Sam alone… Sam took a deep breath and let it out. 

No way would Dean ever leave him alone. Never. The little voice in Sam’s head very unhelpfully added _But you left him_. Sam ignored that voice. He hadn’t left Dean… he’d gone off to college, like most kids.

Dean needed Sam now. That much was clear. Sam regarded his brother, considering just how much Dean had revealed with that one simple statement. “Pull over.” Sam’s voice was soft but sure in the quiet of the car.

Dean looked at Sam quickly. “What? Why?” Dean couldn’t see anything wrong on Sam’s side so he didn’t understand Sam’s request. And then Dean knew – Sam had something very serious to say to him and he wanted to make sure he had Dean’s full attention.

Dean was about to roll his eyes at Sam, but when he saw Sam’s face – full of intent and maybe… love? Dean’s resolve to keep driving faltered. “Just pull over, Dean. Please.” Sam said, his eyes pleading with Dean to do as he asked.

Dean signaled his intent to pull the car over and stopped on the shoulder. And now it was time for a little bravado. “Your wish is my command, Princess. Say what you’re going to say and let’s get back on the road.” Dean drummed his thumbs on the wheel as he waited for Sam to speak.

Instead of speaking as Dean had anticipated, Sam slid over on the bench seat and pulled Dean into a hug. Dean’s face was squashed into Sam’s shoulder, making it hard to breathe. Dean adjusted the angle of his head and complained, “Sammy… dude… what the hell? I can barely breathe and my nose was practically in your armpit. Gimme a break!” Dean struggled to remove himself from his brother’s arms, causing Sam to tighten his hold.

“You listen to me, Dean.” Sam whispered above his brother’s head. “You’re my brother and I’d die for you. I’m always here for you. There’s no need for you to be lonely or feel alone, ok? I’m here, right beside you and we’re in this together.”

Dean grunted in response as Sam continued. “I don’t know if I can help you with the lost part. I feel lost a lot, too. But when we’re together, it’s us against all the bad things out there. We’re a team. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Dean closed his eyes and relaxed into Sam’s embrace, even hugging him a little bit in return. He was reminded of when Sam went off to Stanford. Without him. He’d been devastated. But now, despite the tragic circumstances that made it possible, Dean was glad Sam was back, fighting the good fight right by his side. “I know, Sammy. I appreciate the reminder.”

Sam nodded and released Dean from his arms as he scooted back into the passenger side. Already Sam missed the feeling of Dean in his arms. Maybe hugging Dean wasn’t a good idea. To cover up his weird thoughts and feelings, Sam said brusquely, “Let’s go.”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair to fluff it back up a little bit and then steered the car back onto the road. “You got it, Sammy.”

As Dean pressed the accelerator and got them up to cruising speed, he tried to stop his thoughts from returning to Sam… and how good it had felt to be in his arms, surrounded by Sam’s scent. It had brought Dean comfort… had made him feel like… he’d come home. After trying unsuccessfully to stop thinking about Sam’s arms around him, Dean popped in some AC/DC and cranked up the volume.

In the passenger seat, Sam sighed. When the hell was Dean going to update his music collection. Probably never, Sam figured.


	4. Phantom Traveler

Dean backed out of the parking spot in the parking garage at the airport. He adeptly guided the Impala around the sharp turns of the double-helix ramps toward the exit. He handed the parking ticket to the attendant and then passed her a $20. She gave Dean $2 in change and then lifted the gate to let them pass. Dean stepped on the gas and headed toward the interstate.

That’s when Sam started laughing. He’d been holding back for so long, but had finally lost his battle with his mirth. Dean shot him a quick look before pulling into rush hour traffic. 

“What’s so funny, Sammy?” he asked as he accelerated. Sam just shook his head and kept laughing. Dean furrowed his brows and felt irritation rising within him. And then Sam started crying from laughter. Truly crying – and it wasn’t pretty. He had big, fat tears rolling down his face, accompanied by snorts and guffaws.

Dean shot him another frustrated glance. He was now officially past irritation and was getting angry. Because Dean knew… he just knew that he was the butt of some private joke that only Sam knew. No doubt about it. 

“You gonna tell me what’s so funny bucko?” Dean’s voice was terse and a little growly. 

Sam thought it was cute when Dean played tough guy. And of course, that just made it funnier, because Sam had seen Dean with baby animals and children. He was the gentlest guy out there. _Grrrrrr_ Sam thought to himself, causing another peal of laughter to escape him. 

Sam sent Dean a conciliatory look as he continued to laugh. “S-s-s-s-sorry Dean…” Sam stuttered. “I’m s-s-s-sorry.” Sam pounded his fist on his thigh as Dean continued to scowl. 

Sam was really pissing him off with this laughter shit. Dean pressed the accelerator down a little further, edging up his speed. He had every intention of getting to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Dean Winchester would not be mocked. Dean thought Sam did look pretty adorable, though, when he was unable to control his laughter. But Dean was still irritated. Little Sammy wasn’t getting a pass on this, no matter how adorable he was.

There was a motel up the road and Dean decided to pull in. They could crash for the night and get an early start in the morning. Or, at least, he could, because at this rate, Sam would be lucky to be alive come morning. Sam laughed his way through check in and Dean felt himself going from extremely irritated to moderately pissed. 

Dean wondered why the hell Sam couldn’t have stayed in the car. He was trying to conduct a smooth transaction with the hotel manager and the manager was looking at Sam like he might have a mental patient on the premises. 

Dean shot the manager an apologetic look. “He doesn’t get out much.” Dean said stoically as Sam continued to laugh in fits and starts. Dean guided Sam out of the lobby and if he pushed him a little too hard when they exited the front door, well that was just too bad.

Once they were in their room, Dean grabbed Sam and threw him on his bed. In a smooth motion he pinned Sam down and poked him in the chest with each word he spat at him: “What. Is. So. God. Damned. Funny?”

Sam’s eyes were filled with glee and he managed to gasp out, “You’re afraid of flying… You! Afraid! Flying…” Sam pushed at Dean, trying to dislodge him. 

Dean narrowed his eyes as he looked at his brother. This was a new low. Dean had carried this little jackass out of a burning house when he was four. He’d torn Sam out of a burning building not too long ago. What an ungrateful little shit…

“Are you seriously laughing at me because I’m a nervous flyer?” Dean’s voice was low and menacing.

Sam, unimpressed, bucked his hips to try to throw off Dean’s balance. Dean grunted and grabbed Sam’s hands, holding them above Sam’s head and using his thighs to press him further into the mattress. Sam struggled against Dean’s grip, looking for an advantage over his brother. As Sam rolled his hips from side to side, trying to throw off Dean’s center of balance, he realized he was rubbing his cock back and forth over Dean’s denim covered ass.

“It’s no use, Sammy. I’ve got you pinned.” Dean growled. Sam hiccupped a couple of times, his laughter dying down as he looked up into Dean’s eyes. Sam hoped to hell Dean couldn’t feel his cock responding to the friction under all that denim.

Dean’s face hovered over Sam’s as he continued to impose his will. Sam was beautiful… Dean could get lost in his eyes… and he had, for just a minute, before he became aware of the fact that Sam had stopped struggling and laughing. 

Dean then became very aware of the fact he was straddling Sam and that their faces were just inches apart. And Sam’s lips were right there… and his eyes… And their pelvises were pushed together… oh god… and maybe Sam… was a little hard. 

And maybe Dean’s cock stirred to life at the thought of Sam getting hard. From being close to him like this.

Dean suddenly needed to be very far away from his younger brother. 

Dean jumped off of Sam in one seamless maneuver, spinning away from him and heading toward the bathroom. “You lose, Sammy. Bow to my greatness lame ass.” Dean tossed Sam an insouciant wink over his shoulder and closed the bathroom door behind him. He put his hands on the counter and bowed his head, letting out a long breath. 

“Get it together, man.” He whispered to himself as he pressed a hand against his cock, demanding that it retreat. “Off limits. That is 100% off limits.” Dean splashed some water on his face, rubbed his hand through his hair and let out another long breath.

_What the fuck is happening to me?_ Dean wondered. He and Sam had traveled together for years. Hell, they’d wrestled when they were younger. And then Dean thought about those wrestling matches… and how Sam would sneak off… and he wondered why he couldn’t admit to himself just how long he’d had _feelings_ for Sam.

Dean stared into his own eyes in the mirror above the sink. The eyes that stared back at him were filled with confusion, fear, desire, love… countless emotions he’d kept buried for so long. He was so glad to have Sam back with him – where he belonged – but sometimes it was so hard to have him here, too. Dean had forgotten how he’d been just a tiny bit relieved when Sam had gone off to Stanford. He hadn’t wanted Sam to leave… but he’d been so afraid that if Sam stayed… well, maybe they’d have crossed a line they most definitely should not.

Dean sighed and then turned on the faucet. He let the water get warm and then he washed his face. It was more symbolic than anything – part of him felt dirty because wanting Sam… well, that just wasn’t done. The rest of him felt nothing but an intense longing for someone Dean knew he could never have.

Dean dried his face and then brushed his teeth. He even flossed because Sam always told him he should. When Dean felt ready, he knew he had to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom. When he finally exited, Sam was already asleep on his side, his breathing even and deep. 

Dean looked at his brother for a minute, letting his eyes caress Sam’s face as they traveled from his forehead, down his nose and then over his lips. Lips that Dean longed to kiss and lick and bite. Dean sighed softly and then climbed into his bed, tossing a bit until he was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he was going to be with a traitorous dick that tried repeatedly to rise to the non-occasion.

Behind him, Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother’s back, wondering what had just happened between them, when Dean had been straddling him, looking down into his eyes. Sam had stared up and the only thought he’d had was _finally_. There’d been that one perfect moment as their eyes had met… and then it was gone. 

Sam closed his eyes and attempted to ignore the ache in his heart as he tried to go to sleep.


	5. Bloody Mary

Sam lay awake in the motel room. He and Dean had had the “guilt” talk again. Sam felt guilty for leaving Jess to go off with Dean to find their dad. He felt guilty for ignoring his dreams and not telling her the truth about the family business. He felt guilty that there were times he was so happy just to be with Dean again, he’d go days without thinking about Jessica.

Dean felt guilty about taking Sam away from Jess, his friends and his life at Stanford. Dean felt guilty that Sam didn’t finish his degree. Dean just plain felt guilty because, for some reason, he always felt like he was responsible for saving the world.

Sam supposed that they might have that same conversation another 50 times and neither of them would absolve themselves of all the guilt. Maybe it would always be that way, too. Maybe ten years in the future… he and Dean – assuming they were both still alive – would be sitting somewhere, probably some shitty motel room outside some random podunk town on a crappy hunt… and they’d still be feeling guilty about something.

 _God, what a terrible thought._ Sam sure as hell hoped that particular scenario did not come to pass. A lifetime of guilt… that would be unbearable, even if they had each other. Secretly, Sam still hoped for something better for both of them after they found their dad and figured out what the hell he was up to. Sam hoped that ‘something better’ was he and Dean… maybe having a place they could call home… safely away from hunting and all the pain, anger and guilt it brought.

Sam sighed and turned toward Dean, whom he expected to find sleeping.

Dean was on his side, facing Sam; watching him intently. “You ok, Sammy?” Dean whispered into the nearly oppressive quiet of the room. Sam could never really shut off his brain. Dean could hear the gears whirling from the other side of the room.

Sam met his brother’s eyes and gave him a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I’m ok, Dean.” Sam then closed his eyes and pulled up his covers, hiding himself from Dean’s scrutiny. Ever since the wrestling match, it was hard for Sam to meet Dean’s eyes for any length of time. He was always afraid that maybe Dean had noticed that he’d gotten hard when he’d been straddling him. Sam had fought off the urge to say something about it just being a physical reaction to the friction… because if Dean hadn’t noticed, then Sam would have to explain himself. He’d have to tell Dean the truth.

But the truth… well, that couldn’t be spoken out loud. To anyone… especially Dean.

Dean continued to watch his brother. He was so concerned about Sam’s weird dreams… night terrors, really. And Sam had been avoiding eye contact with him ever since their wrestling match. Dean wondered if Sam had been able to feel the affect his nearness had had on him. Dean couldn’t ask without revealing his own secrets, so instead he focused on his concern about what Sam had been experiencing lately. 

“I’m worried about you, man. These dreams… they’re taking a lot out of you. You need to give yourself a break. Get some rest.” Several times now, Dean had been awoken by Sam’s screams as he’d had some kind of dream… some kind of premonition, maybe.

Sam knew Dean was worried so he nodded without opening his eyes. “I know. I will.” Sam had scrunched himself up in his bed, trying to make himself small in the hopes that if he were small enough… maybe the bad dreams couldn’t find him. Dean was right – he needed a break.

Dean snorted. “You know I don’t believe you, right?” Dean kept staring at Sam. He wanted to see Sam’s eyes… to just have that contact where he knew they were ok – and that Sam could trust him to keep him safe.

Sam cracked an eye open. “Yeah, Dean. I know.” Sam burrowed down more deeply into his bed.

Dean rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He was worried about Sam. His instincts told him to get out of bed and go to him, but the weirdness from the wrestling match a few nights earlier held him in place. But maybe he should just go to Sam… they hadn’t done anything wrong. Everything was still copacetic between them.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and went over to Sam’s. He lowered himself to the edge and sat. Sam opened his eyes and looked up at Dean. “What’re ya doin’?” Sam said, his voice slurring with exhaustion.

“Worried about you, Sammy. Roll on your side… just wanna help you sleep.” Dean whispered. For a moment, Sam thought maybe Dean meant he should roll toward him… that maybe he was going to snake his hand down… low and really help Sam sleep. Sam’s eyes widened at the unbidden thought. He quickly flipped in the other direction and presented his back to Dean.

Dean began rubbing his hand in circles on Sam’s back. When Sam was little and wasn’t feeling well, Dean would do this until Sam finally fell asleep. That was his intention tonight. Dean closed his eyes and varied the size of the circles he rubbed on Sam’s back. 

Sam made a little whimpering sound deep in his throat and let himself relax. Dean’s touch felt so good. Sam, however, wasn’t thinking about how Dean had done this to him when he was a child. Sam was thinking about their wrestling match and the countless other times he’d touched Dean over the last few months. Sam realized that something completely unexpected had been happening.

And part of him considered that maybe it wasn’t just him who was feeling differently lately. Sam filed that thought away and focused on letting Dean’s gentle touch relax him into sleep. It wasn’t long before Sam felt himself slipping away from the present and into the land of dreams. Hopefully his would be good for once.

Dean listened as Sam’s breathing got deeper, indicating he was finally falling asleep. His little brother meant so much to him. He didn’t know what he would do if something ever happened to him. He guessed he’d probably just off himself. He couldn’t imagine a world in which Sam didn’t exist – he didn’t want to. Dean leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Sam’s temple. He let his lips linger just a little longer than he should have as he breathed in the scent of Sam’s shampoo. Dean opened his eyes and rose slowly in order to not disturb Sam.

He quietly went to his bed and sat on the edge, looking at Sam’s sleeping form. The dream his brother was having had Dean on high alert. It wasn’t right – there was something going on that he couldn’t figure out and it bothered him. A lot. 

Dean fought the urge to go back over to Sam’s bed… to climb in beside him and hold him close all through the night. That wasn’t how brothers slept and no matter what kind of crazy thoughts Dean was having – there was no way he was going to subject Sammy to his… depravity. This was his problem… these feelings… and he’d deal with it – figure it out, just like he always did.

Dean slid under the covers and fluffed his pillow to his satisfaction. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Hunting with his brother was presenting him with more of a challenge than he had originally anticipated. He knew he had to stay strong. He had to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

As Dean drifted off to sleep, his last conscious thought was to wonder just how long he’d be able to resist the feelings he had for Sam.

He didn’t know the answer to that.


	6. Skin

As St. Louis disappeared in the rear view mirror, Dean drummed his thumbs along with Kashmir as it pounded through the car. “Nothing better than a little Zeppelin, Sammy!” Dean yelled over the music.

Sam gave Dean a small smile and looked back out at the road ahead.

Dean glanced back at Sam, assessing his state of mind. It was clear that something was bothering Sam. Dean reached over and turned down the music. Usually that was Sam’s indication that they were going to have a chat. The irony of Dean initiating a chat was not lost on him. “You ok, Sammy?” 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, Dean. Nothing’s wrong.” Sam didn’t even look at Dean, he just kept his gaze straight ahead. Over and over, the look on Dean’s face when Sam had told him he was leaving to go to college played through Sam’s mind. Dean had always been an open book to Sam before that conversation. Sam remembered the way Dean’s face had changed as he told him his plans.

_”I’ve been accepted to Stanford, Dean. Full ride, starting in the fall.” Sam had smiled excitedly at Dean, figuring his brother would be happy for him… that his brother would want him to follow his dreams._

_Sam watched as Dean’s smile slid off his face… replaced by a carefully neutral expression. “You’re leaving us?”_

_Sam could see Dean’s devastation. He could hear the unspoken “you’re leaving me?” in Dean’s question. Sam had stepped forward and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “I’m not leaving you, Dean. I’m going to school… like lots of people do.”_

_Dean shrugged Sam’s hands off his shoulders. He gave Sam a big smile which contained no love, no happiness whatsoever. “That’s great, Sam. Good for you.” Dean turned and began walking away from Sam. He had to get away from his brother… the brother who, at the first opportunity he had, decided that he wasn’t enough… that Dean wasn’t important enough to him to stay._

_Sam ran after Dean, shouting his name. Dean didn’t stop and wouldn’t look at Sam when he caught up to him. “Dean, please…” Sam had said as he reached out to grab Dean’s arm, trying desperately to hold him in place._

_Dean immediately broke the hold and looked at Sam. “Just go, Sammy. Have your life and your dreams… all the things you want away from us.” **From me** is what Dean meant but wouldn’t say. “Not that you care, but we’ll be fine.”_

After that conversation, things had been tense between Sam and Dean until Sam had finally left, without looking back, no matter how much that broke his heart. And now Sam knew that his decision to leave had not only gotten Jessica killed, but had hurt Dean far more than he’d realized.

Dean snorted at Sam’s attempt at downplaying his emotional state. “Yeah. I don’t believe that for a second, Sammy. Lay it on me. Talk to your bro.”

Sam shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. He was too emotional about the hurt he’d caused Dean. “Seriously, Dean. I’m fine. Just drive.” This time Sam looked at Dean and gave him a better smile. He tried to keep the sadness from showing on his face but he could see by the way Dean’s gaze narrowed, he hadn’t been successful.

Dean let a few miles pass in quiet. He knew something was wrong; he just had to suss out what it might be. Sam had been excited to see his friends, even though Dean thought it had to have been difficult for him to have the reminder of his life with Jess. Maybe that was it.

Dean thought back to the last couple of days. The shapeshifter thing had been hard. And weird. Very, very weird. Especially when it took his form. Dean continued to ponder the situation and then thought he might be onto something.

“Are you upset about the shapeshifter thing looking like me when it died?” Dean asked quietly.

Sam looked over at Dean in surprise. “No… well, I wasn’t until you brought it up. Seeing that thing… with your face, lying there dead… it was… strange. I knew it wasn’t you, but it looked like you… I’ve tried not to think about it too much. I couldn’t…” Sam paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Well… I… if something happened to you, Dean, I would be a mess.” Sam knew he wouldn’t just be a mess, he’d be devastated to the point of being unable to go on. Dean had always been there… even when he was at Stanford, he knew if he needed something, he could call Dean and he would have come – despite his anger at Sam’s departure.

Dean nodded in understanding. “Yeah, man. I get it. I mean, if something happened to you…” Dean let the thought trail off. As long as he was alive, nothing would happen to Sam. He’d make sure of it. Taking care of Sam was his responsibility… his calling… his job. It was second nature to him, even after their separation over the last few years.

Sam sighed, drawing Dean’s attention back to him and away from his thoughts. “But it’s not that. Um… Dean, I’m sorry about leaving the way I did when I went off to Stanford. You know I wasn’t leaving you, right?” Sam looked over at Dean, hoping he’d see the truth in his eyes.

Dean looked over at his brother. The damn shapeshifter hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut. There were some things that just shouldn’t be known to others. Dean supposed he should just be happy that the shapeshifter hadn’t spilled the beans about how Dean was feeling about Sam these days. Dean couldn’t let Sam know that.

To keep the conversation going, Dean nodded. “Yeah, Sammy… I know that.” Dean looked back at the road. Intellectually Dean knew that. But the way he felt about it – that was something different, illogical, irrational. He had felt abandoned, unneeded… unloved… not enough.

“Do you, Dean?” Sam asked quietly. “Do you really know that in your heart?” Sam thought back to what the shapeshifter had said to him, hoping that Dean would tell him the truth.

Dean was quiet for a moment before looking back at Sam. Dean decided that maybe a little truth was worth the risk. “I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean sighed and looked away, focusing on driving. “My head understands that you weren’t leaving me. I at least know that much.” So much left unsaid… and Dean hoped that Sam could understand what he meant without him having to say more.

Sam’s heart fell. Dean had really thought, all these years, that Sam had left him. What he didn’t understand was that for Sam, leaving Dean behind was the hardest thing he’d ever done and every single day while they were apart, he always found time to think of Dean and wonder what he was doing – if he were ok. 

Sam leaned over, taking Dean’s hand in his. He squeezed it gently and then patted it with his other hand. He then just held Dean’s hand in his, using his thumb to rub back and forth across the back of it as he spoke. “You’re my brother, Dean. And I’m yours. That’s gotta count for something, right? I mean… even if we’re not together at times, I would never just leave you forever.”

Dean nodded his head. “Ok, Sammy.” Sam held Dean’s hand for a few seconds more before he squeezed it again and then released it, letting his fingers trail across Dean’s skin as their hands separated. Dean fought the urge to shiver at Sam’s touch. And moments later, he was horrified as his cock twitched and began to harden in response to that brief contact with Sam. He wondered how he was going to deal with this in the confines of the car. He decided he’d think about what a complete asshole George W. Bush was to distract himself.

Sam leaned back and looked out the passenger window, fighting the urge to reach back over and take Dean’s hand in his again. The urge was strong but Sam resisted it by flexing his hand over and over, keeping his hand on his side of the car. A normal brother wouldn’t have the fight the urge to hold hands with his brother. And certainly, a normal brother wouldn’t want to hold hands with his brother because he found their physical connection to be electric.

Sam closed his eyes and wondered what was wrong with him as Dean continued to think about George W. Bush’s doctrine and just how much it sucked, hoping at some point those thoughts would be enough to prevent him from continuing to react to Sam’s touch.

Dean was dismayed when he realized it wasn’t helping.


	7. Hookman

Dean threw his bag on the bed in the hotel room. “Sammy… you sure you don’t want to head back to Ankeny? Maybe you and Lori…” Dean let the sentence trail off. Deep down, he didn’t really want to see Sam go off with Lori. He wasn’t going to think too much about why that was. At least not right now.

Sam kicked off his shoes and lay down on his bed. “Stuff it, Dean.” Sam didn’t want to talk about going off with some chick for sex… especially when the girl had been through something so terrible. And then there was the other reason Sam wasn’t going to allow himself to contemplate.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed as he rifled through his duffel, searching for a clean shirt and shorts. “Sam, you know it’s been a long time since you…” Dean wondered why he kept pressing. Strike that. He knew exactly why he kept pressing – to take the focus off the weird connection he’d been having with Sam ever since they began hunting together again.

Sam favored Dean with an irritated glare. “It’s none of your business, Dean. Just back off.” Clearly Dean hadn’t been feeling the same things Sam had… if he did, he wouldn’t be trying to send Sam off with some random girl.

Dean gazed at Sam. “C’mon man… you gotta get back on the horse at some point. I’m just sayin’ that Lori was attractive, and you clearly had a connection… so…” Dean shrugged. “Why not?” 

Sam sighed and sat up, reaching for his shoes. He was so confused right now… thoughts of Jess… her death… whatever the hell had been happening between him and Dean… Sam just wanted to be left alone right now, and clearly Dean wasn’t going to do that. “I’m not talking about this with you, Dean.” Sam stood up and moved toward the door. “I’ll be back later.”

Sam didn’t know where he was going to go – a walk, maybe a bar… he felt overwhelmed, like everything was closing in on him and he had nowhere to escape.

Dean was off the bed in a flash. He reached out and grabbed Sam’s arm. “Wait.” He shouldn’t have pushed Sam. He wasn’t ready. Just because Dean was afraid of the feelings that had been building inside him didn’t mean that he had the right to push Sam into something he wasn’t ready to pursue.

Sam looked at his brother, his eyes sad and haunted. “Let me go, Dean.” Sam could feel his arm responding to Dean’s touch. He found this more difficult to deal with than Dean’s persistent badgering about getting back in the saddle.

Dean turned Sam back toward him. “Don’t go. I’m sorry.” Dean placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders, anchoring his brother in place. He really wanted to reach up and take Sam’s face in his hands and… he wasn’t going to finish that thought. He’d hurt Sam and he needed to make it right.

Sam looked at the floor. It felt good to have Dean’s hands on his shoulders… but at the same time he wanted to throw them off and run away from how they made him feel. “I just want to go, Dean. Please.”

Dean took Sam’s face in his hands, unable to resist the urge any longer. “Look at me, Sammy.” Dean pleaded. If he saw what he hoped to see in Sam’s eyes… maybe he could follow his feelings… and do what he’d been wanting to do to his brother lately: kiss him senseless.

Sam met Dean’s eyes. He had to control his emotions to the point where his eyes held no emotion whatsoever. If he didn’t, he was afraid Dean would see just how much his touch was affecting him. Sam knew he really needed to get away from his brother or he couldn’t be held responsible for what he might do. Like kiss him, for example. “Just say what you need to say and let me go.”

Dean closed his eyes briefly and sighed, disappointed he hadn’t seen what he’d hoped to see. He moved his hands from Sam’s face back to his shoulders. “Sammy… I’m sorry. Please don’t go. I don’t mean to push you. I’m just worried about you. You’re my brother, man; my baby brother. It’s my job to take care of you and sometimes I take it too far.” 

Dean sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face as he stepped back from Sam’s personal space. Already he missed the feeling of having his hands on his brother… feeling his strength and his warmth. Dean knew he was in real trouble when it came to how he felt about Sam.

Dean gave Sam a rueful smile. “Go ahead… don’t get lost. Or arrested. I’m not bailing your ass out, brother of mine.” Dean made a move to turn away but Sam stopped him before he could.

It was instinctual – reaching out for Dean like that. Sam didn’t even think about it. All he knew was that even if he could never act on how he really felt for Dean, he still needed his brother… more than he needed air.

Sam enveloped Dean in his arms, tucking his face in along his brother’s neck like he used to when he was a kid. “I’m just not ready, man.” He said softly. “Maybe I never will be.” 

That wasn’t the whole truth… he was ready for something… but there was only one person who made him feel ready… and that person was and always would be forbidden. You can love your brother, but you cannot _love_ your brother. Sam didn’t know what he was going to do – but for now, maybe they could have this… an innocent embrace and contact that made Sam feel safe and loved.

Dean felt Sam’s tears trickling down his neck. He wanted to turn his head, kiss Sam’s tears away.

Kiss Sam.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to focus on what a bastard he was. Here, his brother needed his support and all he wanted to do was lay him down on his bed and kiss him… hold him… feel his skin. Dean sighed as he held his brother more tightly to him. He wouldn’t let go until Sam was ready, no matter how much it tormented him.


	8. Bugs

“Why do people think we’re a couple, man?” Dean asked Sam as he spread toothpaste on his toothbrush. Deep down, Dean was afraid that how he felt about Sam was immediately obvious to others. And, if it were obvious to others… then maybe it was obvious to Sam.

Sam grabbed the tube from Dean’s hand and started squishing some out onto his own brush. Sam had the sinking suspicion that it might be the way he looked at Dean sometimes… but he wasn’t going to mention that. He’d go on offense.

“I don’t know. Look, maybe you give off the ‘gay vibe’.” Sam punched his brother as he started to brush his teeth.

Dean bristled. And then he worried… had Sam noticed the way he looked at him sometimes? Or, better stated, most times? Did Sam know that Dean had feelings that worried him? Dean decided to distract Sam and make an attempt at implying that Sam was the one causing the assumptions. Might not be nice, but the further away from himself he could place the blame, the better he’d feel.

Dean punched him back. “Bitch.”

“Snerk” Sam mumbled around his toothbrush.

Dean spit out into the sink. “Seriously though. I’m not gay. Must be your ‘gay vibes’, dude.” Dean went back to brushing vigorously. Keep saying Sam was gay. That was Dean’s strategy. Because anything else meant that maybe he was gay… and he wasn’t. No way. He liked women. A lot.

And he liked Sam. More. Way more.

 _Shit._ Dean thought to himself. Fundamentally, there had never been anyone Dean would put in front of Sam… and Dean suspected that would always be true. But he chastised himself for allowing even the thought that he might _like_ Sam more than the ladies to creep into his head.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at his brother. Dean seemed pretty defensive about this. Maybe Dean had… feelings for guys. Maybe he was just realizing it. And Sam didn’t want to think about how much that dismayed him. He could handle Dean running off with girls… but if Dean went off with some guy… Sam wouldn’t know what to do. It would be devastating. Because it wasn’t him. And that was the worrisome truth. But, Sam thought, if Dean were feeling something for some guy… as his brother, he should let him know that was ok.

“Why are you obsessed with this? Me thinks the lady doth protest too much!” Sam said with a laugh. Dean scowled at him. “Seriously though, who cares if people think we – or specifically you – are gay? It’s no big thing. Lots of people are.” Sam waited for a response from Dean.

Dean’s cheeks flushed a bit. “I know!” He spit again into the sink and rinsed off his toothbrush. “I just… I don’t know… doesn’t it bother you? Having people think there’s something… between us?”

Sam noted how Dean had blushed. Maybe Dean was feeling something for guys. Or maybe it was just that he and Sam were brothers and Dean was disgusted that someone might think there was something besides brotherhood between them. This whole conversation was hurting Sam’s brain. And maybe even his heart, just a little bit. He had to find a way to end the conversation quickly before he revealed too much through his body language and facial expressions. He’d go on the offensive one last time.

Sam spit into the sink and rinsed his brush before turning toward his brother. Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “No man, it doesn’t bother me. You’re so pretty, I’m just proud people think I could land a hot piece of ass like yours to begin with.” Sam relished the look of horror that crossed Dean’s face as he leaned in to kiss his brother on the cheek as he simultaneously patted his ass. “’Night, honey. Sleep well.” Sam whispered before turning away with a laugh.

Dean stared at his brother’s back as it disappeared through the bathroom door. He reached over and closed the door quickly. His heart was racing and he felt breathless. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing deep, trying in vain to forget the scent of his brother. He really didn’t want to go out into the motel room, but he knew he couldn’t stay in the bathroom all night without having to answer some questions.

He forced himself to take a leak, which was difficult given that his dick was half hard. He concentrated on generating a flow and then quickly washed his hands. Taking one last breath, he threw open the door and strode to his bed, quickly pulling the sheets up over his head.

Sam looked over at Dean, hiding beneath the covers. “You okay over there?” he said with a smirk.

Dean didn’t bother uncovering his head to deliver his response. “Fuck you, brother.”

Sam barked out a laugh before sending over a rejoinder. “Yep. Some people think you do.” Sam snickered one last time and rolled on his side. Dean held his breath and tried really hard not to imagine doing exactly that.

Across the room, Sam was painfully hard. Hugging Dean, patting his ass… and then the flippant remark about Dean fucking him… Sam should have put a little more thought into his approach. He thought he’d been so smart… but now all he could do was picture Dean looming over him in the dark, kissing him greedily… filling him… Sam suppressed a groan.

It was going to be a long while before either brother slept.


	9. Home

Missouri had watched Sam and Dean drive away. And later, she’d watched John drive away. She didn’t understand that elder Winchester and the decisions he made. Like why he was putting the boys through the anguish of not being able to find him.

After John pulled away from her street, Missouri shook her head as she walked back into the house. The things that those Winchester boys would have to endure were heartbreaking. She couldn’t see all the way into the future, but she could see enough to know that those two young men were in for some terrible times in the not too distant future.

She had considered warning them… but there was so much ahead of them, she couldn’t see a way around it all. And bits and pieces were missing. Like John… they’d eventually be together, hunting with their father… but later, John would no longer be with them. Missouri couldn’t see why that was or where John had gone. She intuited, however, that it wasn’t a good thing.

Those boys, though. The road they were on… nothing but hardship, grief… devastation. Missouri sighed. It was overwhelming. She needed a little comfort, so she moved into the kitchen and made herself some tea, as she continued to ponder the future of the Winchester boys. 

She shivered as she got glimpses of events that would come to pass. She wondered how Sam was dealing with his burgeoning psychic abilities. Couldn’t be easy for him… but it would be easier than other things he would face in the future. Much easier.

Missouri took a seat at the kitchen table, stirring a little sugar into her tea. She couldn’t help those two boys, and she certainly couldn’t make John contact them, but none of that stopped her from worrying about any of them. 

Looking into her tea, Missouri saw a vision of the boys that took her breath away. She closed her eyes as she processed the vision of the two boys in Minneapolis. The Aqua City Motel. She couldn’t see when this would happen – but surely not too far in the future as the boys still looked much as they did now. 

She wasn’t surprised by what she saw because certainly she’d seen hints of it in the past and had sensed it between them again today, but her heart ached for the boys, knowing that what she saw would ultimately make things so much more difficult for them down the road.

But it couldn’t – wouldn’t – be stopped. It was written in the stars. She’d even told John once that his boys were soul mates. He’d scoffed in disbelief and had implied she might be smoking something illegal. She’d let John off the hook, never mentioning it again… but she thought, deep down, John understood what she was saying, and what it might mean for his boys.

Masters of avoidance – all three of them. Each thinking they had control, could change the future… that they could save the world. She didn’t understand those three men, but she cared about them nonetheless.

“Winchesters.” Missouri muttered as she took another sip of tea.


	10. Asylum

Dean still wasn’t in a caring and sharing mood when he and Sam got to the motel. They hadn’t talked much over the course of the evening. Dean was still pissed about Sam shooting him and Sam was emotionally wrecked by what had happened earlier.

Dean got under the sheets while it was still a little light out. His chest ached from the rock salt and he couldn’t get the image of Sam repeatedly pulling the trigger of his gun while it was aimed at his chest out of his head. The underlying rage Sam must have in order to…

“Dean.” Sam whispered from the other bed, startling his brother. He had to reach out… he had to reach Dean… make things right between them.

Dean didn’t reply immediately, happy to let Sam wonder if he’d respond or not. After a few moments, the guilt of leaving Sam hanging was too much for Dean. “What?” he said flatly. 

Sam swallowed thickly. He knew he had a lot to make up for. “About today… I meant what I said when we first talked about… what happened. I didn’t mean all of those terrible things I said. I really didn’t. I need you to believe that.”

Dean stayed quiet. He knew Sam had been under the influence of a ghost… but that didn’t make him feel better about any of it. Dean had been hunting long enough to know that the seeds of what Sam had said had already been there – the ghost influence may have magnified what Sam felt, but the ghost couldn’t make something from nothing. So this time, he didn’t acknowledge what Sam had said, no matter how much he wanted to make Sam feel better.

Sam looked over at his brother. He knew that Dean’s heart was still hurting from the harsh words, even if he wouldn’t say so out loud. Sam willed his brother to look at him. Several minutes passed and Dean still wouldn’t even glance his way. Sam sighed softly and then sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he fixed things with Dean.

Sam went to Dean’s bed and kneeled down next to him, his eyes roving over Dean’s profile. Sam’s breath caught… Dean was so beautiful. Sam loved every angle, every gentle slope. Sam’s gaze lingered on Dean’s lips. They were so full, so kissable… Sam blinked rapidly, focusing on the task at hand. “Dean.” Sam whispered.

Dean kept his eyes closed as he whispered back, “Go to sleep, Sammy.” Before Sam had spoken, Dean had wanted to open his eyes to look at him… maybe try to see what Sam was feeling… but it was too hard. He was afraid he’d see contrition… and maybe some love shimmering in Sam’s eyes… and then Dean would want to pull Sam to him and do… other things. He hoped Sam would go back to his bed, thereby avoiding any potential mistakes on Dean’s part.

Sam reached out and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, please…”

Dean suppressed a shiver as Sam’s hand made contact with him. Dean rolled away from Sam, needing to break the physical connection. “You shot me, Sammy.”

Sam leaned forward and rubbed his hand over Dean’s upper back. “I’m sorry, Dean. Did the rock salt hurt you? You want me to clean it and rub some salve on the wound?” Sam would take any excuse to just be in physical contact with Dean at this point. He needed to touch Dean… but he wasn’t going to allow himself to dwell on why that was.

Dean gave a sharp laugh as he sat up, again needing to get away from Sam’s touch. “No, Sammy. That’s not even what I’m talking about.” Dean stood up and faced his brother, who was still on his knees next to the bed. Dean ran his hand through his hair and fixed his brother in place with his eyes. “You took my gun, Sammy. You pointed it at me… and you pulled the trigger.” Dean said with a bewildered look on his face. 

Sam stared up at his brother, horrified at what had happened in the asylum. He should have been more careful – he should have been able to overpower the ghostly influence. He loved Dean. More than anything. He would never hurt him. Not willingly. “Dean… I’m sorry… I don’t know how…” Sam closed his eyes against the pain he was feeling as he let the sentence trail off.

Dean sighed and looked down at the floor as he shook his head. Intellectually, he knew Sam couldn’t have stopped what happened… that type of influence would be nearly impossible to overcome. But Dean… he had thought that maybe their… love or whatever it was between them… would have triumphed over the ghost’s power. It hadn’t… and maybe that was because Sam didn’t feel the same way about him. And why would he?

Dean sighed. More quietly he said, “You pulled the trigger… repeatedly. If that gun would have been loaded, you would have killed me, Sam.”

Sam, overwhelmed with the need to make things right between them again, launched himself off the floor and strode around the bed. He stopped just short of his brother. “Dean…” Sam’s hands were outstretched in a supplicating manner… he was literally begging Dean to listen… to hear him… to forgive him.

Dean, still feeling hurt and dismayed, moved to step around Sam, but Sam blocked him with his body. “Move, Sammy.” Dean growled.

Sam did move. He stepped up to Dean and wrapped him in his arms. Dean held himself stiffly, refusing to return the embrace. Sam held on anyway, saying nothing. He tightened his grip on his brother. Dean still didn’t respond. “Dean… please… I can’t have things be like this between us.” Sam whispered next to his brother’s ear.

Dean shivered as the hot bursts of Sam’s breath puffed against his neck. He wanted to wrap his arms around Sam… he wouldn’t let himself though, because there was no guarantee that he’d stop there. It was getting difficult to trust himself whenever Sam was close to him. Dean closed his eyes, fighting off the urge to grab Sam and kiss him greedily… feeling him respond to him... “No!” Dean said roughly. It wasn’t Sam he was talking to, but Sam didn’t know that.

In one quick motion, Sam spun Dean around and threw him on the bed. Dean landed on his back and looked up at his brother with wide eyes full of torment. Sam looked into Dean’s eyes, interpreting the emotion he saw in them as devastation caused by Sam’s actions. Sam had no idea that Dean’s torment had nothing to do with that. Not really. 

Sam turned and sat next to him, sighing deeply, as he was overcome with despair. “What do you want me to say, Dean? Nothing I say is going to make you… forget I did that. But it wasn’t me, Dean. It was the ghost.” Sam reached over, taking Dean’s hand in his. He pulled Dean’s hand to his face, nuzzling it with his cheek. “Please believe me, Dean…” Sam whispered, his lips brushing against the back of Dean’s hand as he spoke.

Dean grunted as he wrenched his hand away from Sam. God help him, just that little bit of contact had his cock responding enthusiastically. Dean sat up to hide what was happening to him. He faced away from Sam so he could better fight the urge he had to kiss him. 

Dean’s voice wavered as he spoke softly, still facing away from Sam. “It was you, Sam. Maybe the ghost magnified your… feelings… but it was all you under there, Sam. I could never point a gun at you and point the trigger. Never!”

Sam felt as though Dean had punched him in the gut. He lay back on the bed and let his tears flow. Sam draped his forearm over his eyes and just let his anguish go. 

Dean listened to Sam’s sniffles, muffled sobs and moans. He never could bear it when Sam cried. It wasn’t long before he said, “Don’t cry, Sammy.” 

Sam took a hitching breath. “Sorry.” He whispered. But Sam couldn’t stop crying. He’d hurt Dean so deeply and there was nothing he could do to ever take those words and actions back. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been the one in control of himself… Dean hurt so Sam hurt. It had always been that way between them.

Dean allowed himself to look at Sam. His little brother was the very picture of misery. Tear stained and flushed cheeks, slightly swollen eyes… his face blotchy and grimacing from the emotions roiling through him. As much as Dean knew it would threaten his self-control to go anywhere near Sam physically, he couldn’t just leave Sam in misery.

Dean sighed as he moved his arm under Sam’s neck, rolling his brother toward him until Sam’s head was on his shoulder. Rubbing Sam’s back with his hand, Dean implored, “Please don’t cry, Sammy. I know it wasn’t you, ok?”

Dean felt Sam’s head shake back and forth as “no” in response. Dean pulled his brother closer. “Yeah, Sammy, I know it wasn’t you. It’s ok.” 

Dean fully wrapped his arms around Sam, holding him tight. Dean let his hands rub up and down Sam’s back in long, smooth strokes. He should have just let things go earlier. Sam hadn’t purposely done anything… and even though the image of Sam shooting at him was troubling, _it hadn’t really been Sam_ and Dean needed to let him off the hook for it.

Sam let himself relax into Dean’s arms. He had been terrified that the situation would end differently. A sense of relief flooded through him. Things would be ok between them again. Sam closed his eyes as he draped his arm over Dean’s stomach. “I’m so sorry, Dean. Really…” 

Dean patted Sam’s arm. “Shhh. It’s ok.”

And it was ok. Dean was successfully battling his feelings for Sam, keeping the contact innocent. Remembering Sam shooting him helped keep those other instincts at bay. He’d given Sam a pass, but part of him would always remember what happened. He would just have to be careful to not let it fester.

The brothers lay there, holding one another. They didn’t need any more words. Not right now. Sam could hear the beating of his brother’s heart and it comforted him. It wasn’t long before the rhythmic beating lulled him to sleep.

After Sam had been asleep for a while, Dean turned his head and pressed a lingering kiss at his temple. It felt good to hold Sam close. Too good, probably, because now that he had it, he knew every night he’d want it. Dean shifted a bit to get more comfortable. Sam made a little noise of protest as he slid his hand up Dean’s chest, tangling his fingers in Dean’s shirt right over his heart.

Dean looked down at Sam’s hand resting over his heart. It touched him. He slowly moved his hand from Sam’s upper arm and lowered it onto the hand over his heart. When Sam unconsciously threaded his fingers through Dean’s as he slept, Dean felt his heart lurch.

Dean didn’t know where things would go from here, but now, at least, he knew how good it felt to have Sam next to him like this. That would have to be enough for him and he accepted that, even knowing he wanted so much more.


	11. Scarecrow

Dean pulled the car away from the bus station. He felt a little guilty about making light of Sam’s chick-flick moment in the parking lot. Sam had said exactly what he needed to hear and he had cracked a joke. 

Dean shook his head at himself. That was just like him… covering his deeper emotions with humor and sarcasm. He didn’t understand why he did that with Sam. Usually it was his defense mechanism for dealing with girls he liked. That thought gave him pause and he chose to ignore the tension in his gut as his brain processed that little nugget. Clearly his feelings for Sam weren’t going away. 

Dean was troubled by his feelings for Sam. He’d been fighting them and trying so hard to squash them, but they just wouldn’t go away. They were 50 miles down the road before Dean spoke. “Hey Sam…”

Sam looked over at his brother. “Yeah?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Sorry for crackin’ a joke back there. I appreciated what you said, I just… I don’t know why I couldn’t just say something… nice in return.” Dean kept his gaze straight ahead, unwilling and possibly unable to meet Sam’s eyes.

Sam huffed out a little puff of air. It had hurt when Dean made a joke instead of having a moment with him. Sam had thought that maybe after their reconciliation from the events at the asylum, maybe they’d be closer emotionally. But this was Dean, so he should have known better. “It’s ok, Dean. I know you don’t do emotions well. Don’t worry about it.”

Dean was silent for a while. He wanted to be close to Sam, even though it would be hard with those other feelings he had. They were adults now, and they were a team. “I could learn to do them better,” he eventually said.

Sam looked over at his brother with a gentle smile on his face. “Dean – you are who you are. You don’t need to change for me.”

Dean nodded once. He appreciated Sam’s acceptance of who he was, no questions asked. But he could be better – a better version of himself. Sam made him want to be better. “Yeah, well… maybe I want to.” Dean said softly.

Sam shot Dean a surprised look but didn’t say anything further. That was the closest Dean had ever been to an “I love you” and Sam had every intention of savoring the moment.


	12. Faith

Dean’s shout of “No… Layla!” woke Sam up from a deep sleep. He sat straight up and felt around for his gun. He hadn’t heard what Dean had shouted, just that he had. When he didn’t see an immediate threat, he looked over at Dean’s bed.

Dean was thrashing underneath the covers, making whining noises as he continued to dream. In his dream, Layla kept dying in front of him, accusation in her eyes as they slowly went blank. Each time her last words were, “Why you instead of me?”

Sam leapt from his bed and ran over to Dean, grabbing his shoulder. “Hey… Dean… wake up… wake up!”

Dean’s eyes flew open and he sucked in a deep breath. “Oh god, Sammy…” Dean’s eyes were wet with tears and they moved side to side as he pulled himself out of the panic. Dean shuddered when he thought about the light draining slowly from Layla’s eyes, over and over.

Sam pulled Dean closer. “What, Dean? Tell me.”

Dean pulled Sam to him, burying his face in Sam’s neck as he started to cry. Sam held Dean close, rocking him slightly as he cried. Sam didn’t say anything; he just held on and tried to help Dean weather the storm. He still wasn’t sure what Dean’s dream had entailed, but obviously it had seriously upset him.

Dean let himself take comfort in Sam’s embrace. Sam held him tight and Dean relished how Sam’s body heat seeped into him and brought him comfort. He felt at peace here in Sam’s arms; surrounded by Sam’s scent and held securely against his chest.

Much later, Dean sniffled and extracted himself from Sam’s arms. He didn’t move too far away as he rose to a sitting position. He kept his eyes focused on the pattern in the carpet as he spoke softly. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam could see Dean wasn’t entirely over his nightmare, so he reached over ran his hand down the back of Dean’s head, resting his hand at the base of his neck. “You wanna talk about it?”

Dean dropped his head and sighed. He needed to tell Sam about the dream. He was never much for letting anyone get too close, but this was Sam, so he told him the truth. “It should have been Layla, Sam. She deserved to be healed… not me.”

Survivor’s guilt. Dean was struggling with the knowledge that Layla wasn’t likely to make it. Sam sighed. “Dean… Layla’s story was sad, and I hope she finds a cure… but don’t you think there’s a reason you were saved? You have important work to do. We have important work to do.”

Dean shook his head. “That doesn’t make my life worth more than hers, Sammy.”

Sam scooted closer to Dean and wrapped his arm around him again. Dean felt his heart speed up as Sam rested his head on his shoulder. “I’ll be honest, Dean… I’m glad it was you.” Dean shivered as Sam’s breath ghosted over the sensitive skin over his clavicle where the neckline of his t-shirt was stretched out of shape, exposing flesh. 

Sam felt Dean’s shiver so he turned to wrap both arms around his brother, thinking he was cold. Pulling Dean close, Sam burrowed his head in Dean’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent. He’d always loved the smell of Dean… leather, the Dove body wash he thought Sam didn’t know about… and his own musk. Sam would be happy to just sniff Dean’s neck all day. Sam furrowed his brow; he was glad Dean couldn’t read his thoughts. 

“I can’t… I can’t lose you, Dean.” Sam whispered. Dean had to suppress a groan as he felt Sam’s lips move against his neck. He craved Sam’s touch… but it scared him, too. 

“Don’t you think her mom feels the same way about her, Sam?” Dean whispered back, still tormented by his dream and the feelings Sam’s nearness was stirring up inside of him.

Sam held Dean tighter and whispered back, “No… I don’t think her mom feels the same way about her that I feel about you at all.” 

Sam held his breath as he waited for Dean to respond… to ask him what he meant… to pull back… look at him… anything… Sam wanted to just tell Dean how he felt… but he couldn’t just say it. If Dean asked, Sam vowed he would tell the truth. There shouldn’t be lies between him and Dean.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath as he turned Sam’s words over in his mind. Could he mean… was that even possible? That he might feel the same way Dean himself felt? “Sammy…” Dean breathed out, unable to say anything more.

When it was clear Dean wasn’t going to say anything else, Sam moved past his disappointment in Dean’s silence and tried to comfort him the best he could.

“I’m here, Dean.” Sam said as he pulled Dean backwards and up toward the top of his bed. He gently rolled Dean onto his side and moved in behind him to spoon him. Dean tried to be as still as he could so he wouldn’t scare Sam away. He wanted to turn over and face Sam… he wanted to just tell Sam everything he was feeling… but he was terrified of losing Sam – driving him away with his unnatural feelings and desires.

As Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, he found his brother’s hand and threaded their fingers together. Dean looked down at the way their hands fit together and his eyes misted over at how perfect he thought they looked when entwined. He wanted to tell Sam what he saw… but now wasn’t the time.

Maybe it would never be the time.

Dean closed his eyes and just let himself feel safe in Sam’s embrace. With his arms wrapped tightly around his brother, Sam held Dean until he fell asleep. Sam hoped Dean’s dreams would be sweet. As Sam felt the need for sleep tugging him under, he pressed his lips against the back of Dean’s neck. “I love you.” Sam whispered softly as he gave into his exhaustion.

For the first time in a long time, both brothers slept soundly, feeling safe and loved.


	13. Route 666

Sam drove Dean away from Cassie. He had to fight the urge to press the accelerator all the way to the floor in an effort to get Dean further away from her. Sam knew that wasn’t logical, but he couldn’t help how he felt. About Dean and Cassie – or anything else for that matter.

Sam thought Dean was asleep in the passenger seat. He’d given Sam instructions to wake him up when it was his turn to drive. Dean wasn’t really sleeping, but Sam didn’t need to know that. Dean had thought maybe he and Cassie could start things up again, but she clearly didn’t want to be a part of his life. _Because she’s smart._ Dean admired her ability to apply logic to situations, but part of him had hoped she would want to try again just so he could be distracted from all of the weirdness with his brother. Which was a stupid and selfish reason, but Dean never claimed to be a saint.

Sam was still thinking about Cassie, too, as he drove. He wanted Dean to be happy – he really did. But deep down, he was so glad that Cassie closed the door on the relationship. He’d been worried at first when Dean didn’t come back to their motel room… _home, to him_ Sam thought… and then he’d felt… 

Jealousy. Intense feelings of jealousy. No doubt about it, he was jealous of Cassie. It took hours for him to admit it to himself. Once he did, he had spent additional hours trying to figure out what was happening to him and his relationship with Dean. 

Over and over he thought about Dean being his brother. _His brother!_ And yet, the more he thought about Dean being his brother, the more Sam began to think that it didn’t matter – at least not in the context of how much he felt for Dean. Because what he felt was so much more than just brotherhood. The more time they spent together, the more he came to rely on his steady presence, and the more Sam had to suppress his desire to be in close physical proximity to Dean. 

Sam rubbed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose to try to get rid of his current thoughts. Lately, he’d been spending time every day thinking about Dean and him and _them_. It was driving him crazy. Sam jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. “You ok, Sammy?” Dean asked, worry on his face. “Are you having a vision? You better pull over…”

Without thinking, Sam turned his head and kissed Dean’s hand. He met Dean’s eyes briefly while screaming _“What the FUCK!”_ in his head. He quickly looked away and laughed nervously. “Uh… sorry. Um… uh… what I mean is thanks for being concerned, but I’m ok.”

Sam stared at the road ahead with wide eyes. No way was he looking at Dean. Nope. He did not know what the fuck had just happened, but he was going to pretend that there was absolutely nothing to see here… and the best way to do that was to act natural. 

Dean furrowed his brow as he watched Sam. He was sitting ramrod straight, his hands gripping the wheel until his knuckles were white… and he wasn’t blinking. Totally not natural… but Dean wasn’t going to say anything to draw attention to it. He was too busy thinking about how good it felt when Sam’s soft lips had briefly caressed the skin of his hand.

Dean slowly slipped his hand off Sam’s shoulder, running it down his arm and squeezing lightly before completely removing it. “’S ok, Sam. I am just worried about you.” Dean stopped talking for a moment, absently rubbing the spot on his hand Sam had kissed. The nerves were tingling and his heart was pounding, but he continued with his game face. “If you need me to drive, just say the word, little brother.” 

Dean leaned back and told himself to listen to what he just said: little brother. His internal dialogue was a jumble… part of him was elated Sam had kissed his hand, the other part of him was screaming that he must find a way to stop whatever this thing was before it could really start. They’d been heading toward a line that should never be crossed. 

Dean vowed that he would be strong and keep them on the right path.


	14. Nightmare

Sam couldn’t stop thinking about Max. Max turning the gun on himself. Max shooting himself in the head right in front of his stepmother. His vision of Max shooting Dean in the head. Dean lying dead on the floor. Sam shivered in his bed. Dean… he’d almost lost him today.

He looked over at Dean, who was already asleep in the other bed. He was so close and yet so far away sometimes. Sam sighed and looked back at the ceiling. He felt so alone… so isolated with his new powers. He didn’t understand what was happening to him and that scared him. He wondered if Dean was scared _of him_. The thought of that made him feel ill.

Sam impatiently flipped over on his stomach and punched his pillow, trying to find some comfort in turning his back on the world as he tried to sleep. He felt restless and didn’t hold that position for long. After several more minutes of flipping and flopping, he gave up on trying to sleep. Quietly Sam got out of bed and slipped on his shoes. Grabbing his jacket and the room key, he softly shut the motel door behind him.

Sam took a deep breath and inhaled the night air. It was crisp with a hint of burning leaves. Someone had been burning yard waste earlier. The sky was clear, unlike Sam’s state of mind. So many thoughts swirled about in his brain; he couldn’t shut them off.

Sam walked over to the Impala and perched on the trunk. He leaned back against back window and looked up at the night sky, thinking about fate, demons and powers that came out of nowhere. The only thing that made any sense to him at this point were demons. He could exorcize them, hurt them with holy water and he knew what they were and what they wanted.

Everything else though… he didn’t understand any of it. The visions, the other kids with powers… the plan for them. And, always there in the back of his mind, his feelings for Dean. After they’d held each other during the night a couple of times… Sam had thought maybe it would happen more frequently. But they hadn’t slept together for a couple of weeks, and clearly, it wasn’t going to become a thing, no matter how much Sam wanted it to be _their_ thing.

Sam was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the soft snick of the motel door closing. He nearly flew off the car when Dean jumped up next to him.

“Dean!” Sam cried out as his arms flailed about. “You scared the shit out of me!” Sam chastised as he resettled himself on the trunk.

“Heya Sammy.” Dean said as he slotted himself in next to his brother. Dean leaned back and looked up at the sky. “What’s going on? You ok?” Dean had been worried when he woke up to an empty room. Subconsciously he must have sensed that Sam had left.

Sam leaned back, his shoulder against Dean’s. “Yeah. I’m ok.”

Dean shifted and put his arm around his brother. “Com’ere.” He pulled Sam against him. Sam let his head rest on Dean’s shoulder, thankful that his brother knew he needed some comfort. Dean pulled him a little closer. “You’re nothing like Max, Sam.” Dean whispered as he held Sam against him.

Sam whispered back, “I know.”

Dean looked down at his brother’s head. “Do you? Because you’re not – you need to believe that. You’ve got nothin’ but good inside you, Sammy. You would never hurt someone, or kill someone like he did.”

“I shot you with rock salt and then tried to shoot you with your own gun, Dean.” Sam muttered, feeling nothing but self-loathing.

Dean used his finger to gently move Sam’s face so he could look him in the eyes. “It wasn’t you, Sam. You and I both know that. I know I was upset about it initially, but there’s no way you would ever do that without being controlled by something that wasn’t you.” Dean caressed Sam’s cheek with his thumb, unable to resist the urge. Sam closed his eyes and held his breath, hoping Dean would repeat the motion.

Or kiss him. God, how Sam wanted Dean to just capture his lips with his own… to feel the caress of those soft, full lips on his own. Just the thought of it made Sam shiver with need.

Dean noticed Sam shivering, so he cupped Sam’s face with his hand and planted a kiss in the middle of his forehead. “It’s cold out here, Sammy. Let’s get back to bed.” Without waiting for an answer, Dean slid off the trunk and then turned and extended his hand to Sam. “Come on, Gigantor.”

Sam slipped his hand into Dean’s and let his brother help him off the trunk. When he was on his feet, Dean turned and led Sam back to the room. His fingers were entwined with Sam’s and he didn’t let go.

Back in the room, it was dark and quiet. Dean slipped off his jacket and then turned to help Sam off with his. Once again, Dean took Sam’s hand in his own and led him to his bed. Dean then crawled in and looked up at Sam. “You climbing in?”

Sam looked uncertain, but he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Dean… waiting… for what, he didn’t know. Dean sat up and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’d like you here with me, Sammy.” Dean whispered. “It’d make me feel better.”

Dean removed his hand from Sam’s shoulder and looked at his brother, waiting for him to decide. He was afraid to make any further moves toward physical contact with Sam… he felt like he’d revealed an awful lot in the last few minutes. Now it had to be Sam’s choice. Sam kicked off his shoes and turned so he was sitting next to Dean, facing the same direction down the bed. Sam swiveled his head and looked at Dean. “It’d make me feel better, too.” he said quietly.

Dean gave Sam a soft smile and leaned back, pulling his brother with him. Sam shifted so his head was on Dean’s shoulder, his ear right over his brother’s heart. Sam could hear the strength of Dean’s heart with every beat and it made him feel safe. Sam slid his hand across Dean’s stomach, noting the muscles clenching as he did so. Dean threaded his fingers through Sam’s and used his thumb to gently stroke over his knuckles.

Both brothers relaxed into one another, enjoying the peace and quiet and the comfort they found in each other’s arms. Dean gave not a single thought to lines that shouldn’t be crossed. His brother needed him; and he needed his brother.


	15. The Benders

Leaving the deputy and what was left of the horrible Bender family behind, Dean and Sam walked along the road back to Hibbing. It was cold – the way Minnesota could get cold with a sharp wind that made your eyes water, so they kept their pace quick, both to make better time and to keep the blood circulating.

Leaves and twigs, blown about by the northerly wind, tumbled by as they walked, sometimes crunching beneath their feet if that’s where the wind had moved them. After a while, Sam spoke. “I don’t blame her, you know?”

Dean, who had been thinking about how close he came to losing Sam, looked over at his brother. “What?” Dean had been thinking about Sam in that cage – like an animal. He’d been so glad to see Sam alive… but seeing him in that cage, defenseless. That had been hard.

Sam puffed out a breath. “The deputy. For shooting the dad.” If anyone ever hurt Dean, Sam would do the same exact thing. If today accomplished nothing else, it at least brought him clarity as far as that was concerned.

Dean thought for a moment. “Yeah. I totally get why she did it. I would have.” If anyone ever hurt Sam, he’d rip their lungs out. He wouldn’t hesitate – he’d just retaliate. 

Sam nodded. “At first I didn’t get it though. I thought she should have handled it like a law enforcement officer – you know, cuff him, haul him in… prosecute.”

Dean looked back at Sam. “She handled it like a sister, Sam. A big sister who felt responsible for her kid brother.” And Dean knew exactly how she felt. And then he thought she probably wouldn’t feel the same in return. It was unlikely that she had… romantic feelings about her brother the way he did about Sam.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I get that now.” After a pause, Sam added, “It just took me a while.” Having always been the kid brother, the one who counted on Dean to be there… Sam never could have understood the strong urge to defend and avenge. But now, with these new feelings for Dean growing inside him… he could see it and feel it… and really understand what a powerful emotion unconditional love could be.

Dean slid a glance toward Sam. “It’s cuz you’ve never been a big brother, little bro.”

Sam thought about that statement for a bit. “Yeah, that’s true… but I feel the same way about you.” Sam was glad he finally understood how Dean felt about keeping him safe at all costs. It made him feel more connected to his brother than he ever had before.

For a moment Dean’s heart stuttered when Sam said he felt the same way about him. And then he realized that Sam meant that he felt responsible for him, his safety. Dean put a smile on his face. “Yeah, Sammy… I know you do.”

Sam stepped closer to Dean as they continued to walk. “Cold out here, man. How far do you think we are from the car?” Sam brought his hands up and blew hot air on them to try to heat them up.

Dean pulled out his cell, looked at the time and calculated how long they’d been walking. He thought about how long he and Deputy Hudak had been driving when they originally got to the Benders’ property. “Good news, Sammy. If I had to guess, I’d say we just have another… hour or two.”

Sam shivered. “Shit, Dean. We’re gonna be frozen solid.”

Dean chuckled, “Better frozen than in jail, little brother.”

Sam rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, I guess. At least you have a better coat for this unplanned excursion.” Sam acknowledged that he hadn’t really planned for Minnesota weather. This time of year, it could turn on a dime.

Dean looked over at Sam’s denim jacket and stopped walking. Sam kept going for a couple of steps and then turned back toward Dean. “What are you doing?”

“C’mere.”

“No. What?” Sam was immediately suspicious. He and Dean had always played pranks on one another and he thought maybe he had fallen into some kind of trap.

Dean lunged forward and grabbed his brother, hauling him into an embrace. Sam shoved him away, afraid to let Dean be that close to him when he was feeling so emotional about their relationship. “Dude. We’re not girls! I don’t need a hug.”

Dean laughed and shrugged out of his jacket. “Trade me.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, Dean. I’m fine. I’m not 12 anymore. I can survive a little cold, I mean it’s probably only… mfffff.”

Dean pounced on Sam, putting his hand over his mouth to shut him up as her forcibly tugged off Sam’s jacket. “Trade me you jack ass.” 

Dean stepped back, Sam’s coat firmly in hand. He tossed his jacket to Sam and slipped into the one he’d just removed from Sam. He could smell his little brother all around him and started to think that maybe he’d just made a mistake. A big, big mistake because already his cock was twitching, ready to jump to life at just the slightest hint that further contact would be made.

Sam pulled on Dean’s jacket, tucking his nose into the collar. “Eau de Dean. Smells like you, bro. What is that? Jean Naté? Love’s Baby Soft?” Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean, trying to hide just how much he loved his brother’s scent.

Dean flipped Sam off and started stomping down the road.

Sam jogged to catch up to his brother. He flung his arm around Dean, bringing his head in close. Dean could feel Sam’s unruly hair tickling his nose. “Seriously though… thanks Dean.” Sam said softly before kissing him gently on the cheek and moving away.

Dean couldn’t stop the smile that sprang to his face. “No biggie, bitch.”

Sam flipped Dean off. “Jerk.”

The boys continued walking down the road in silence. Every once in a while, Dean would catch Sam turning his head to better smell Dean’s scent on his jacket. Dean felt a weird sensation – like butterflies – in his stomach every time he saw Sam do it. Dean didn’t know how to feel about this turn of events so he filed it away and kept walking.


	16. Shadow

Dean lay on top of his bed, his mind reeling from, the events of the day. Specifically the conversation he’d had with Sam. He replayed that over and over in his head.

_“Why do you think I came and got you at Stanford?” Dean had said, wanting so much to tell Sam the truth. It had been for him. Because he hadn’t wanted to spend another day apart from Sam. He’d had enough._

_“I want us to be a family again.” Dean did want that… but he wanted so much more than that. He just couldn’t find the words to tell Sam._

_“Things will never be the way they were before… I don’t want them to be.” And then Sam had devastated him by saying that he didn’t want to be with Dean forever. That he didn’t want to be the way they had been before Sam had told Dean he was going to Stanford._

_“When this is all over, you’re going to have to let me go my own way.” When Sam had said that, Dean had wanted to fall to his knees. He couldn’t bear being apart from Sam, ever again._

And that’s what Dean was dreading. Sam was going to leave him. Despite his previous reassurances. Despite everything they’d been through since Jessica died, he was just going to leave Dean as soon as he possibly could. Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat as rolled onto his side.

Sam was asleep in the other bed, soft snores emanating from his relaxed face. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, playing with the contours of Sam’s face. Dean looked at his brother and found him to be beautiful. He always had thought Sam was special… but now, Dean could only feel an all-consuming love whenever he looked at Sam.

Dean rolled onto his back to avoid looking at Sam. It was too hard when juxtaposed with their earlier conversation. Besides, he shouldn’t be thinking that his brother was beautiful… but no matter how hard he tried not to, he did think that and Sammy was. At least to him.

Dean rolled away and stared at the wall. He thought about seeing his dad, how good it had been to have the 3 of them back together. Thinking about Sam and their father making amends made Dean feel good; hopeful that maybe someday they really could be a family again. Until he remembered what Sam had said: _“Things will never be the way they were before… I don’t want them to be.”_

Dean felt tears gather behind his eyes. He rubbed at his eyes, furious with himself for wanting something he clearly couldn’t have. Sam was going to leave him as soon as they found and killed whatever had killed their mom. The sooner Dean accepted that, the safer his heart would be.

Across the room, Sam was dreaming, reliving the conversation he’d had with Dean earlier… but this time, the conversation went the way he’d wanted it to… the way he’d meant for it to go. At least initially.

_“Why do you think I came and got you at Stanford?” Dean said, his eyes full of anguish and desire to be understood._

_Sam walked over to Dean and looked down into the moss green depths of the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen._

_“I want us to be a family again.” Dean said._

_But that’s not what Sam wanted. He wanted to forget that they were brothers. He wanted to give into the feelings he’d had for Dean ever since they started hunting together after he’d left Stanford. He wanted to make sure Dean knew that the platonic brotherly relationship they’d always had was no longer enough for him._

_“Things will never be the way they were before… I don’t want them to be.” Sam said as he reached out and took Dean’s hand in his own. Dean looked down at their hands and then back up into Sam’s eyes._

_“I don’t understand what you want, Sam.” Dean said warily._

_Sam tugged Dean’s hand hard enough to pull him into his arms. “I want you, Dean.” Sam whispered next to his brother’s ear, before planting a soft kiss on his neck. He felt Dean shudder and then was horrified when Dean pushed himself away from Sam, a look of disgust on his face._

_“What’s wrong with you, Sammy?” Dean growled. “That’s not something a guy says to his brother, man. What the hell?”_

_Sam turned and shivered. He couldn’t undo what had just happened. It was then he knew what he had to do._

_“When this is all over, you’re going to have to let me go my own way.” Sam said stiffly before leaving the motel room._

“Noooo…” Sam moaned as his dream evaporated, leaving him full of fear and disgust with himself. Sam sat up and looked over at Dean. His brother was sleeping peacefully. Sam wiped the tears from his eyes and laid back on his pillow.

He couldn’t allow that scene to play out. It was so clear to him that he could never tell Dean how he felt and he would have to figure out a way to stop his unnatural feelings for Dean. Losing his brother over his own depravity wasn’t something he was willing to do.

And he’d known that earlier in the day when he’d told Dean he’d have to let him go his own way when all this was done. If Dean didn’t, Sam knew he’d eventually lose control of his emotions and Dean would find out the truth.

And then he’d lose everything. Sam wasn’t going to let that happen.


	17. Hell House

Dean and Sam called a pranking truce on their way out of Richardson, Texas. Dean, of course, had no real intention of keeping it. He was already thinking about possible ways to get Sam. Dean smiled when an idea formed in his mind. He congratulated himself on his brilliance and formulated a plan.

Later, they were in the motel room.

“You hungry?” Sam asked from across the room where he was on his laptop looking for potential cases.  
Dean looked up from his dad’s journal. “Yeah. I could eat. Don’t feel like going out though.” Dean flipped the page.

Sam sat back and stretched. “You want me to go grab some take out?”

Dean looked over at him. “Sure, man. That’d be great.”

Sam nodded and stood. “Ok. Back in a bit.” Sam grabbed his jacket and the keys to the car and Dean didn’t move until he heard Baby’s engine roaring down the road.

Dean jumped up and got everything he needed and began constructing his tableau.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam unlocked the motel door and pushed the door open with his arm. “Hey, Dean, I got you a…” Sam started to say and then he stopped, letting the bags and sodas fall to the ground. 

“Dean!” Sam let out a strangled shout. He ran over to Dean’s bed where his brother’s body was splayed out, hands and feet tied to the bed, his neck covered in blood. A bloody knife lay on his chest; the evidence of a vile act.

Sam fell to his knees and grabbed his brother’s hand. “Still warm.” He thought to himself. Out loud, Sam let out a long keening noise… sobs wracked his body as he kissed his brother’s hand. “No….” he moaned over and over.

Dean opened an eye and peeked at his brother. “Oh shit!” he thought to himself. He had really fucked up. How Sam had been fooled by ketchup, he wasn’t sure, but he had to fix this quickly.

Dean sat up, the knife falling to the floor. Sam fell backwards with a scream, “Jesus Christ!” Snot was dripping from his nose and his eyes were already swollen. Sam never was pretty when he cried.

Dean dropped to his knees and grabbed Sam. “Sammy… I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d fall for that…”

Sam’s punch was swift and unexpected. Dean shook his head to rid himself of the stars in his vision. Sam pushed him away and stood up. His breathing was rapid and he was still partially crying. Now, more from anger than anything else.

“You motherfucker.” He hissed as he doubled over and retched. “God…” Sam put a hand on the wall to steady himself. “I fucking hate you so much right now.”

Dean stood and held out his hands in a supplicating manner. “God, Sammy… I’m so sorry. It’s ketchup… I didn’t think… I thought you’d be startled and then laugh…”

Sam looked at Dean. “Are you out of your mind? The light is dim, I couldn’t tell it was ketchup… Fuck. Fuck, Dean! I thought you were dead! Sam yelled. “I thought I’d just missed the person – you were still warm!” Sam grabbed his head and bent over again, a sob breaking free. “I thought you were dead… Dean…”

Dean rushed forward and pulled Sam to him. “I’m so sorry, Sammy… please… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Sam shoved Dean away. “No! You shouldn’t have! Why would you think you being dead would be funny? You think that would just scare me? Dean… it broke me! I’m sick…” Sam dry heaved again, retching so violently, it ended in extended coughing and gagging. 

Dean approached Sam again but didn’t touch him. “Can I get you some water?” Dean asked softly. Sam nodded once and slowly walked across the room to sit at the table. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked a bit, seeking to comfort himself. Dean came back and set a glass of water in front of him. He then kneeled down next to Sam.

“I’m sorry…” Dean said softly. Tentatively, he reached out to touch Sam’s hand. Sam pulled it away quickly.

“Don’t touch me.” Sam hissed. Sam’s heart was still pounding. He’d been terrified. He thought he’d been too late… that he’d never have the chance to tell Dean… Sam let the thought trail off, remembering his dream from the other night. He wasn’t going to tell Dean anything. But still… he didn’t want to be without his brother. He couldn’t bear it.

Dean dropped his head, folding his hands on his knees. “Sammy – please. I’m sorry.” Dean had taken things way too far. He had just really wanted to scare Sam… it had never occurred to him that from the doorway the scene might look real. 

Sam stood up and side-stepped Dean. “I’m going out.” Sam said flatly. “Alone.”

Dean got to his feet and watched his brother leave the motel room. There was nothing he could do to stop him.

When Sam said they shouldn’t resurrect the pranking, Dean should have agreed. No, he amended. He should have known how far he could take it and not cross the line. He’d do well to remember that in all things he concluded.

Dean picked up the take-out food and drinks and threw them in the trash. No way could he eat right now. He stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes. Silent tears fell and dampened the pillow under his head. He didn’t know when – or if – Sam would be back, but he knew he was going to be all alone for a while. 

Whether Sam was physically with him or not.

Hours later, Sam quietly let himself into the room. He’d walked for miles, thinking about how fucked up things were lately, all the way around. Mostly he thought of Dean. And how it had felt to think he was dead. After the anger at Dean’s prank wore off, he’d been left with nothing but the knowledge that losing Dean would kill him – or drive him to insanity.

When Jess had died, he’d been able to go on. It had been hard at times, but he’d been able to go through the motions until he was functioning without obsessing about her death. Sam knew now that his feelings for Dean ran so deeply that losing him… well, that would destroy him. He knew he’d do anything – pursue any avenue available to him – to get Dean back.

He’d never even tried making a deal for Jess.

Sam sighed softly in the quiet of the room. There was a full moon, and the motel room was filled with its soft glow. Sam paused at the end of Dean’s bed, looking down at the man who meant everything to him. 

Dean was lying on his back, sleeping – although not restfully. His hands were clenched into fists and Sam could see the tension in his jaw. Sam moved closer and knelt down next to Dean. He could see then that Dean’s eyes were slightly swollen and it was clear he’d been crying after Sam had left.

Sam didn’t want Dean to hurt like this, so he reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down Dean’s cheek, feeling the stubble against his skin. Dean moved his face toward Sam’s hand in sleep, seeking his touch. Sam repeated the move, slower this time, with just a little more pressure. This time, Dean’s eyes cracked open and widened when he saw Sam.

“Sammy…” Dean whispered as he reached up and took Sam’s hand in his. Dean pressed a soft kiss in the palm of Sam’s hand, causing Sam’s stomach to flutter nervously… excitedly. “Sammy… I’m so sorry…” Dean whispered. His eyes begged Sam to forgive him.

Sam squeezed Dean’s hand gently and then let it go. “I know.” Holding Dean’s gaze, Sam once again trailed the backs of his fingers down Dean’s cheek. He looked at Dean as he did it, freezing him in place with the intensity of his gaze. “Scooch over.”

Dean moved over, making room for Sam. As he did so, Sam stood and stripped off his flannel shirt and jeans, leaving him in just a t-shirt and his boxers. Dean did his best to keep his eyes on Sam’s face, but it was a real struggle with so much of Sam’s skin exposed.

Sam lifted the sheet and slid in next to Dean.

“Sammy…” Dean started… he wanted to apologize again. But Sam didn’t give him the chance.

“I know you’re sorry, Dean. No more words. Just… just… hold me, ok? I need you to hold me.” Sam whispered, his voice quivering with emotion.

Dean immediately pulled Sam to him. He pulled him as close as he could get him. As Sam settled in, Dean pressed his lips against Sam’s forehead. Sam sighed as Dean took his hand in his and held that tight, too.

Minutes passed as Dean held Sam and neither of them broke the silence. As Dean began to drift off to sleep, Sam gripped his hand more tightly. “Don’t ever leave me, Dean.” Sam whispered. 

Dean pulled Sam’s hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it softly. “Never.” was all he said.

It was a promise he intended to keep.


	18. Something Wicked

“Get away from my brother, you bitch!” Dean screamed. “Oh god – no!” Dean thrashed under the covers of his bed in the throes of a horrible nightmare in which the shtriga had drained Sam of his life force and Dean was too late to save him.

“No!” Dean screamed again as Sam shook him awake.

“Dean! Wake up!” 

Dean’s eyes flew open. “Sammy!” he gasped as he tried to sit up.

Sam saw tears streaming down Dean’s face. “Sammy…” Dean whispered as he grabbed his brother’s arm. “Oh god…” Dean moaned and bit his lip to keep himself from crying out again.

The dream had been so real. In his dream, Dean had held his brother’s lifeless body in his arms, feeling the warmth drain away as the shtriga escaped. Dean hadn’t cared about the monster – the only thing he cared about was that he was moments too late to save his brother.

In his dream, holding Sam’s lifeless body in his arms… he’d been overcome with a grief so deep… he couldn’t imagine going on. If anything ever happened to Sam, Dean knew it would be over for him. Forever.

Sam gently wiped away Dean’s tears. “What happened?” he asked softly as Dean tried to pull himself together. Sam used his finger tips to gently stroke Dean’s face as he continued to shake off the horror of his nightmare.

“Shtriga.” Dean rasped through his raw throat. “I was too late to save you.” Sam’s face had been gray… devoid of expression, his eyes… crusty and shriveled sockets… the beautiful multi-colored irises gone… replaced by an emptiness that was as bleak as the hole left inside Dean’s heart.

Sam pulled Dean into his arms. “It’s ok. I’m ok, Dean.” 

Sam gently rocked his brother. He knew what this felt like – only his experience hadn’t been a dream. And it had thrown him for a loop. But it had also made things so much clearer in Sam’s mind. He knew now that there was no wishing away his feelings. Whether or not something ever developed between him and Dean… those feelings would never go away.

Dean sank into Sam’s embrace, making himself small and getting as close as he could. He needed his brother’s arms around him. He needed to feel Sam against him – full of life and energy… nothing like the empty husk of his dream.

“Sammy… I was too late. I wanted to die.” Dean shuddered in Sam’s arms. “I couldn’t go on, not without you…”

Sam kissed the top of his brother’s head. “Shhhh. Everything is ok, Dean. I’m right here.” 

Sam had thought he’d feel trapped once he realized that he’d never be able to leave Dean. Not anymore. Not with these feelings inside of him… but he didn’t feel trapped. All he felt was love.

Dean wound his hands in Sam’s shirt and pulled back to look at him. “But what if you weren’t? What if something happened and I was just moments too late?” Dean shuddered again. “Sam…”

Sam pulled Dean close again and leaned back in his brother’s bed, keeping him close. “I know, Dean. How do you think I felt when I walked into the motel room and saw you on your bed? It was terrible…”

Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and held it to his lips. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I should never have done that. It was stupid.” Dean kissed Sam’s hand again and clutched it close to his chest. 

“Stay here with me.” Dean pleaded.

Sam pressed his lips to Dean’s cheek, giving him a lingering kiss. “Ok… I want to be here with you.” Sam whispered against Dean’s cheek. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, holding him close. Sam held Dean in return and scooted down the bed and put his head on the pillow. Dean immediately fit himself alongside his brother, throwing his arm over Sam and putting his head on his shoulder. 

Sam flipped the covers over them and held his brother to him. With the arm wrapped under his brother, Sam used long, smooth strokes down Dean’s back to soothe him. With his other hand, he cupped Dean’s face and slid his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone, over and over, gently caressing him… trying so hard to tell Dean how he felt about him without using words.

Sam felt Dean begin to relax back into sleep. When Dean’s first snores came, Sam gave into the urge to kiss Dean. He pressed his lips to Dean’s forehead, right over his eyebrow. Sam wished so much he could tilt Dean’s face up and kiss him languidly. Sam dreamt of sliding his tongue slowly over Dean’s bottom lip… gently nipping and stroking it as he sought entrance to Dean’s mouth.

Sam could only imagine the pure bliss of feeling Dean’s lips moving against his… pressing, caressing, sucking… their tongues entwining. He knew that he was unlikely to ever know what that felt like in real life, but he’d dreamed of it many times and he felt a little guilty, thinking about it now, when Dean needed his comfort.

But having Dean this close was so hard for Sam because all he wanted to do was lose himself in his brother. He wanted to show Dean exactly how much he loved him. In his mind, Sam had rationalized away many of the reasons he’d been holding onto in order to argue (with himself) against crossing any lines. 

Thinking Dean had died had squashed a lot of his reasons for not doing it. Sam figured he’d probably find ways around the rest of his internal objections as well. And when he did? All bets were off when it came to his ability to resist the love he felt for Dean.

Dean sighed in his sleep as he slid his leg over Sam’s. Dean used that leg as leverage to pull himself closer to Sam. As Dean’s pelvis pressed against Sam’s hip, he could feel Dean begin to softly rut against him in his sleep. Dean made soft little whimpers deep in his throat as his hips continued to rock. As he grew hard against Sam’s hip, Sam shifted his position to make friction for Dean impossible. At least with him. A few minutes later, Dean was quiet and his hips were stationary.

Sam let out a shaky breath as he willed his hard-on to recede. When it showed no signs of abating, Sam looked up at the ceiling and thought about how fucked up they were. When Dean slid his hand under Sam’s shirt in his sleep, Sam stifled a moan and tried to keep his breathing even as his stomach muscles quivered at the contact.

Yep. Seriously fucked up.


	19. Provenance

Arriving at the motel after leaving Sarah Blake behind in up-state New York, Sam threw himself on his bed, face down. He’d liked Sarah. He’d wanted to want Sarah. He’d kissed her because Dean had egged him on. But his heart wasn’t in it. In fact, no part of his person was in it.

If anyone asked, he would say it was because he still wasn’t over Jessica. But deep down, Sam knew that wasn’t true. There was another, bigger reason that he refused to name or really acknowledge much, except in the darkest hours of the night when, more often than not, he slept holding his brother in his arms.

Dean busied himself with unpacking, sneaking glances in Sam’s direction. Sam was face down on the bed. His jeans were riding a bit low on his hips and they were tight. Dean found his eyes continually wandering in his brother’s direction, scanning his form – appreciating it.

Wanting to run his hands up and down… over every inch of skin he could reach.

Dean closed his eyes. “Stop it,” he said to himself. He had encouraged Sam to pursue Sarah. He thought if Sam got a new girlfriend – or at least got laid – he’d be able to stop his obsession with his brother. He and Sam had been sleeping in each other’s arms more often than not… and it had been delicious and torturous, all at the same time. 

If Dean couldn’t have Sam – and, to be clear, he wouldn’t let himself – then he needed Sam to go be a man-slut so it would be clear to him that Sam was otherwise occupied. And then he’d be able to turn his brain to other endeavors – maybe go find a gal or a bunch of gals for himself.

Dean walked to the bathroom and set out his toiletries. He knew he was lying to himself. All he’d felt about Sarah was jealousy. He’d put on a good face, cheering Sam on. But inside he’d been screaming “No! Don’t kiss her!”

As he’d watched Sam lean down and capture Sarah’s lips with his, pushing and pressing their lips together… deepening the kiss… probably using tongue – Dean guessed because he was too far away to actually see – Dean had wanted to _be_ her… to know what it felt like to have Sam focus his attention on her.

Great. Now, in addition to wanting his brother, Dean was dreaming about being a girl just to have him? _Fan-fucking-tastic_ , Dean thought to himself.

Dean rubbed a hand roughly over his face. “Get it together, man.” He said under his breath. “Don’t cross the line.”

Dean knew that directive to himself was far easier said than done, especially with all of the nighttime snuggling he and Sam had been doing. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be holding his brother close at night, finding reasons to hold his hand or to kiss his hand… wanting his brother like he did now… well, he probably would have shot himself in the head, just on principle.

Too late now… he needed Sam and Sam needed him, so he would just have to find a way to deal and hope for the best. Hope – still not his favorite strategy, but it would do in a pinch.

Dean splashed some water on his face and put on a smile. Walking out of the bathroom, he said, “Hey Sammy – dinner?”

Sam turned to face Dean, still sprawled across his bed. “Yeah. I could eat.” 

Sam smiled at Dean as he wondered if they’d find a way to end up in each other’s arms tonight. Maybe a fake nightmare or maybe another backache. Sam had used a stiff neck as the reason last night… Dean had massaged it for him and Sam loved every second of feeling Dean’s fingers on his neck.

“Yeah? Well get up. Let’s go.” Dean responded as he smiled back at Sam.

Sam sat up. “Ok.”

When Sam stood, he made a show of stretching his arms way up and twisting his torso to and fro. The action had hiked his shirt up and Dean was looking anywhere but where the soft skin of Sam’s belly was exposed. If Dean let himself look… he’d want to trace Sam’s treasure trail with his tongue… and that just was not something Dean should be thinking about when they were about to head out for food.

Dean remained by the door as Sam stuffed his feet into his shoes, wiggling his feet back and forth to work them on. Sam walked toward Dean with a small smile on his face. Dean was about to open the door when Sam wrapped his arms around him.

Suddenly Dean was engulfed in Sam’s scent and his traitorous cock found that fact interesting enough to want to take a look around. Dean made sure his hips remained well away from Sam’s. 

“To what do I owe the hug?” Dean said gruffly, hoping Sam would release him before his cock found a way to get closer to its object of interest.

Sam let his hands travel down to Dean’s waist where he gave him a brief squeeze before letting go. “No reason… I just… missed you.” Sam smiled awkwardly. He had been planning to thank Dean for the neck rub, maybe queue up another one for later… so now he was feeling out of sorts.

But his words put a smile on Dean’s face. Dean rose to the balls of his feet and gave Sam’s cheek a quick kiss. “Missed you, too, you dork.”

Dean opened the door and let Sam take the lead.

The truth, Dean knew, was that he’d follow Sam anywhere.


	20. Dead Man's Blood

It had been a long, long time since Dean, Sam and John had shared a motel room. Months earlier, Dean had dreamt of this scenario – he, his brother and his father, reunited as a family. Dean was now surprised to realize that what he really wanted was to be alone in the motel room with Sam. He loved how close they’d been lately.

And he missed the physical contact they typically shared now. It was clear that having John here changed the way they interacted with one another.

Around 7, John went out to grab some take-out for himself and the boys.

“Be back in 30, boys.” John had said over his shoulder as he left the motel room and went out to his truck.

As soon as he was gone, Dean went over and sat next to Sam on the couch. He made sure he was close enough so he could spread his legs just a little and feel his thigh up against Sam’s. “How you doin’?”

Sam smiled looked at his brother as he pressed his thigh a little more firmly against Dean’s. “I’m ok.”

Dean reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling his arm toward him. “Did you get any wounds today?”

Sam looked down at his arm. Dean was tracing a meandering trail across the skin of the underside of his arm as he looked for scratches and cuts. Sam shivered at the touch, causing Dean to flatten his hand and rub Sam’s arm briskly to stop the shivering. 

“A few scratches. No big deal.” Sam swallowed thickly as he looked back at Dean. Everything Dean did turned him on. Sam cleared his throat. “You?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah – I’m good.” Dean leaned back and crossed his feet on the coffee table. “I still can’t believe vampires are real, man. I did not expect that.”

Sam mirrored Dean’s position as he, too, leaned back. “I know – me either. But on the other hand, werewolves are real, so why wouldn’t there be vampires?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Good point.”

“At least we know how to kill them now.” Sam stated.

“Yeah.” Dean paused for a moment. “How about that Colt, though? Can you believe that thing?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah – amazing. But nearly useless if it needs special bullets.”

Dean sighed and leaned his head all the way back on the sofa, closing his eyes. “Yeah – why does everything have to be so hard?”

Sam longed to lean into Dean and just be… safe… but it was still light out and his dad could come back any moment. So, instead of moving closer to his brother, he sighed and said, “I don’t know, Dean. But it sure would be great if something could go our way for once.”

Without looking, Dean reached over and placed his hand on Sam’s thigh, squeezing it gently. “It will, Sammy.” Dean left his hand there for a few more seconds before slowly withdrawing it.

Sam looked at his thigh. The skin underneath the denim where Dean had laid his hand felt as though it were on fire. Sam rubbed at it vigorously, which did not escape Dean’s attention.

“Sorry, Sam… I didn’t mean…” Dean swallowed nervously. “I won’t touch you again.” Dean felt a little sick inside so he sat up and made a move to stand. Instead, Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

“Ooomph” Dean grunted as he landed half on Sam. Sam pulled Dean’s head next to his and put their cheeks together. “It’s not that, Dean.” he whispered. “I… it…” Sam sighed and tried again. “I want… I mean… I don’t want you to stop.” 

Sam hugged Dean fiercely for a brief moment and then stood up and went into the bathroom, leaving Dean speechless.

Sam was bent over in the bathroom, pressing his hand against his dick, willing it to go back to its usual state. Dean’s touch… Sam couldn’t even let himself think about it, otherwise his cock would reverse course and then he’d have to explain to someone why he was walking around with a painfully hard boner.

Dean stood outside the bathroom door. He could hear Sam moving around, the water running… a couple of sighs. Tentatively, Dean raised his hand and rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Sammy?”

Sam was quiet for moment and then responded. “Yeah?”

“You ok?” Dean really wanted to talk to Sam right now. Especially about his last statement.

“Yeah.” Sam answered. He wasn’t ok. He was far from ok. He’d almost told Dean everything… about how he felt, how much he wanted Dean to touch him. Sam was scared he’d fucked everything up for real this time.

When nothing further came from inside the bathroom, Dean tried turning the door knob. The door slowly swung open, revealing Sam seated on the lid of the toilet, his hands clasped together in front of him, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Dean walked slowly toward Sam and then knelt down in front of him. Sam wouldn’t look at him. Dean reached out and put his hand over Sam’s. “Sammy… talk to me.”

Sam looked into Dean’s eyes. He could see the love there… the love Dean had for him. Sam felt he had revealed too much and was surprised to see Dean’s face relaxed and concerned, certainly, but there was no disgust in his expression.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Sam finally said as he looked back at the floor. It was so hard meeting Dean’s gaze; he just couldn’t do it right now.

Dean reached up and cupped Sam’s face with his free hand. As he gently stroked Sam’s cheek with his thumb, he spoke. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was soft, as though he were afraid to speak normally in case that would scare Sam off.

Sam leaned his face into Dean’s hand and looked at his brother. Dean’s smile was soft and full of acceptance. Sam could see that… he just didn’t know what the acceptance was. Did Dean accept the fact that Sam didn’t want him to stop touching him? Or did he accept the fact that something was clearly wrong with his brother, but he wasn’t going to hold it against him?

Dean slowly stood and pulled Sam up with him and into a hug. He held on tight, knowing that there would be no sleeping with his brother tonight. Not with dad in the room. This would be his last chance to make this right.

“Sammy.” Dean whispered next to Sam’s ear.

“Yeah?” was Sam’s whispered reply.

“I… I don’t want to stop… touching you, I mean.” Dean had said it out loud now. There was no taking it back. He wondered what Sam would do next. He didn’t have to wait long.

Sam stepped back and took Dean’s hands in his. He looked down into Dean’s eyes, searching for… permission… acknowledgement… something…

Dean stared back and then let his eyes shift to Sam’s lips and then slowly back up to his eyes. That was as much as Dean could do to signal to Sam it was ok… to do whatever he was feeling.

Sam took a small step forward, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. He began lowering his head, slowly… giving Dean plenty of time to stop him. But Dean just held his gaze.

Sam’s lips were just inches from Dean’s when the sound of keys jingling in the motel door lock traveled through the room. 

Before Sam let go of Dean’s hands, he leaned forward quickly and placed a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek, not far from the corner of his mouth. Sam then turned and walked out of the bathroom.

John was setting the food and drinks down on the table. When he saw Sam, he smiled and then asked, “Where’s Dean?”

Dean popped out of the bathroom at that exact moment. “Here. I’m here.”

John looked at his boys and wondered what was going on. “You two use the bathroom together these days?” John asked with his brows furrowed.

Sam blushed and looked at the floor. Dean stepped forward quickly, punching Sam lightly. “Just checking Sam’s arms out. He has a coupla big scratches. Nothing big enough for stitches though.”

John’s face cleared. Of course. He’d always taught Dean to take care of Sammy. “Did Sam check you out?”

At the double entendre, neither brother would look at the other for fear of laughing… or crying… or kissing. Sam straightened up. “Yes, sir. I checked Dean out.” Sam said. “He looks great.”

It was Dean’s turn to blush. He wondered if Sam were purposefully being cheeky just to fuck with their father or if maybe Sam were sending him messages. Dean hoped it was the latter.

John nodded, oblivious to the flirtatiousness of the conversation that had just been had right in front of him. “Let’s eat, boys.” Sam and Dean took seats next to each other at the table. When Sam felt Dean’s knee pressing firmly against his own, he applied his own pressure.

John divided the food and the boys concentrated on eating, unable to meet each other’s eyes. There was too much left unsaid compounded by the physical contact between them just out of John’s line of sight.

John noted the change in the atmosphere and wondered what had happened in his absence. “You boys have a fight?” he asked.

Sam and Dean quickly looked at each other and then at their father.

“No sir.” Dean said crisply.

“No sir.” Sam said more softly.

“Everything ok?” Both boys answered in the affirmative. John let it drop but not because he believed them. He didn’t know what was going on between his boys, but it had him worried.

_Soul mates._

Briefly John recalled Missouri’s statement so many years ago. He refused to believe that their close relationship was anything other than exactly what they needed to stay alive. John had never believed that being soul mates would affect them.

But he was starting to wonder. He considered calling Missouri… but then, when he was honest with himself, if there were things… going on… he didn’t want to know. As he looked at his boys… he gave himself a mental kick. He’d raised them right. He’d raised them to take care of each other. That’s all it was.

If John knew that Missouri had called them “masters of avoidance”, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if he wanted to disagree.


	21. Salvation

Driving back to the motel, Sam couldn’t let the subject of the demon drop. They’d been so close to killing the Yellow Eyed Son of a Bitch. Sam was infuriated that Dean had stopped in from going back into the house. “Dean… I still can’t believe you stopped me. You should have let me go.”

Dean was stewing about the situation as well. But he was mad at Sam for thinking that his life didn’t matter more than killing the goddamned demon. The other night, Dean and Sam had been so close to… something. Something had happened between them. Love… whatever it was. It was real. And he wanted to have a chance to figure out what it was, with Sam. But that wouldn’t happen if Sam kept trying to sacrifice himself.

Dean sighed and pulled the car over. “Get out.”

Sam looked at Dean, his face full of irritation. “What? Why?”

Dean turned to look at Sam, his eyes shooting daggers. “I said get out.” Dean’s voice was low and growly. 

Sam suppressed his shiver. When Dean got like this, it was equal parts terrifying and sexy. But Sam wasn’t in the mood for sexy and he wasn’t about to be intimidated by his big brother. “No, Dean.” 

Dean jumped out of the car and went to the passenger side, wrenching the door open. He reached in and pulled Sam out, pushing him up against the car and holding him there with his weight against the hands on Sam’s shoulders. 

“You listen to me, little brother. That thing… that demon… it is not more important than your life.” Dean’s gaze was intense and his voice was rough with emotion. Sam needed to understand that Dean did not consider killing the Yellow Eyed Demon more important than keeping his baby brother safe.

Sam looked away and said nothing. He was so full of tension… and he was angry about the demon getting away, he was scared of, and yet excited by, whatever had been happening between him and Dean… and Sam knew that fucking this up was going to disappoint their father. Sam felt torn in 50 different directions and all he really wanted were Dean’s arms around him.

But, after the other night, that felt… dangerous. They were on the edge of something… and they’d almost stepped off – together – but then their dad had come back to the room and the moment… well, it was gone. And maybe there’d never be another one like it.

Dean was angered by Sam’s lack of response, so he shook him. “Do you hear me, Sammy? I cannot lose you to that thing. No way. I am not going to let that happen.” Dean wanted Sam to look at him. To acknowledge that what Dean was saying was correct… that there were things bigger than killing that damn demon.

But Sam… Sam wouldn’t give Dean what he needed. He wouldn’t show or tell Dean that he understood. It was breaking Dean’s heart. Dean kept his hands on Sam’s shoulders and bowed his head down between his arms.

“I can’t lose you again, Sammy.” Dean took a shuddering breath. “I can’t, man. I just can’t.”

Sam looked down at Dean’s head. He was still angry, but Dean was in pain and Sam could never ignore that. Not for even a second. “When did you lose me?” Sam asked softly.

Dean looked up at him, his expression incredulous. “Don’t you get it? When you went off to college, off to a new life… new friends… new everything, leaving me behind.” 

_Without you._

_Without a purpose._

_Lonely._

_Alone._

Sam’s expression fell. Ever since the shapeshifter incident, Sam had tried to imagine how he would have felt if the situation had been reversed. As his feelings had grown for Dean, it became clearer and clearer to him just how much that would have hurt. 

But Sam liked to think he would have understood, too. Because things hadn’t been as Dean saw them. “I didn’t leave you, Dean. I was…” Sam let the sentence trail off because he knew that nothing he said would take away how Dean felt about the situation.

Dean stepped back and turned away from Sam. “Yeah, Sammy. You did. And now you’re trying like hell to give your life – something I happen to value very much – to this thing.” Dean sighed and kicked at the dirt on the side of the road. “And I couldn’t bear that, Sammy…” Dean said, his voice low and full of raw emotion. “I really couldn’t…”

Sam looked at his brother’s back. His shoulders were hunched forward and his head was hanging down… he was clearly distressed. He wanted to go to him, but he was still upset… and if something happened… something they’d been headed toward the other night… Sam didn’t think this was the right time to risk being close… not with this level of emotion between them.

“You’re gonna leave me again, Sammy. If we get this thing. As long as you’re still alive, I can find a way to deal with that. What I cannot deal with is you dead.”

Sam watched his brother, still scuffing his boot in the dirt. 

“Dean…” Sam whispered.

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam. “I mean it, Sammy. If you… if you died, I would die, too. You saw me after my dream about the shtriga. Think about that and stop trying to throw your life away.”

Sam watched Dean walk back to the driver’s side of the car. His instincts were screaming at him to go after Dean… to pull him close… kiss him senseless… And that’s exactly why he couldn’t move. He knew he’d push things too far if he were anywhere near Dean right now.

“Dean…” Sam wanted to tell him he understood, but once again the moment had passed.

“Just get in the car, Sam. I’ve said my piece. Let’s go.” Dean slid into the car and waited for Sam to do the same. They didn’t talk at all on the way to the motel. 

Sam thought about Dean’s dream about the shtriga – but he wasn’t remembering the dream. His thoughts were only of holding his brother while they slept. He thought about how amazing it had felt to have Dean so close, wrapped up in his arms. It was something Sam wanted every night.

But Sam knew that he’d be sleeping alone on this night. Sam sighed and looked out the window, wondering what the hell was happening between him and his brother. Things would be so much easier if they could just… resolve it… whatever it was, however it needed to be resolved – whether that was denying everything or giving themselves over to it.

Something had to be done.

Soon.


	22. Devil's Trap

John was so angry with Sam, he couldn’t be in the same room with the boys. The Yellow Eyed Demon had possessed him… and Dean had figured it out, making John proud – but not enough to say so. John had overpowered the damn thing, but Sam… he hadn’t been strong enough to do what needed to be done.

John had known that Dean could never shoot him, but he hadn’t counted on Sam following Dean’s orders. Sam should have listened to him. Briefly, John wondered how the hell he had lost control of his sons. Dean had always been like Mary – a big heart, a bigger sense of duty. Sam had always been like him, deep down where it counted. He’d expected Sam to do what needed to be done.

But a few months with Dean… and suddenly Sam was different. It didn’t make any damn sense.

John went to the door and wrenched it open. He paused briefly before slamming the door behind him. During the pause, he looked back at Sam. “You fucked up, Sammy.”

Sam flinched as the door slammed shut behind John. Sam had known what his dad expected, but Dean had begged him not to do it… and Sam wanted to give Dean what he needed. It was as simple as that. Or, as complex as that, depending upon one’s vantage point. 

Dean went to Sam and threw his arm around him, leaning his head in close to Sam’s. “You did the right thing, Sammy.” Dean whispered, thankful that Sam had listened to him, letting logic prevail… maybe even believing that none of their lives were worth sacrificing for this demon. They could get that bastard… without getting killed. Dean was certain.

Sam sighed and tried to pull away. What he’d done was right for Dean, and therefore right for him. But John wasn’t going to see it that way. “No matter what I do, it’s always wrong, Dean.” Sam’s voice was flat. Defeated.

Dean pulled Sam into a proper hug, holding him close and cherishing the contact with him. It had been a while since Dean had had the opportunity to hold Sam in his arms. He had missed it. 

“That’s not true, Sam. You did the right thing tonight.” Sam let his head rest on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m so tired, Dean.” Sam whispered. And he was tired… he hadn’t been back hunting for long, but already it wore on him, tore at his psyche. Many days, Sam just wanted to pack up their shit and have Dean drive them somewhere so they could disappear together… figure out a life that made sense for them, far away from hunting.

But it would never happen. Sam could sense that much.

Dean pulled Sam closer, holding him tightly, threading his fingers through his brother’s hair. “I know, Sammy.” Dean sighed. “I am, too.” Dean turned his head and planted a soft kiss on Sam’s neck, causing Sam to shiver.

Previously, Dean would have thought Sam was cold. Now, he suspected that his touch affected Sam as much as Sam’s touch affected him. The thought was something Dean filed away for a better time. Right now, John could come back at any moment so there wasn’t time for any more talking.

The boys held each other for a few more moments, saying nothing; just taking comfort in their steady breaths and closeness. Sam had needed Dean’s touch. As soon as Dean had pulled him into the safety of his arms, Sam’s doubts about doing the right thing had evaporated and he let Dean’s love calm and steady him.

When John rushed back through the door, the boys jumped apart. John stopped and looked at them sharply. “Why aren’t you packed?” Dean looked at the floor, guiltily. Sam met John’s eyes boldly.

“You didn’t give us orders to pack, sir.” Sam’s expression was smooth, but inside his feelings were churning, making him feel nauseated. Confrontations with his father always made him feel that way. And the fact that John was pissed and found Sam’s decision making to be lacking unnerved Sam more than usual.

John stepped up to Sam, his eyes flashing. “Are you being smart with me, boy?” he growled.

Sam held his ground. “Well… I did get a full ride to Stanford, so being ‘smart’ comes easy to me.” 

John shook with anger. He wanted to slap Sam so badly, but he’d never laid a hand on his kids and didn’t intend to start now so he spun around and went to his duffel. His voice was low, but pointed. “Can I suggest you two pack your shit up so we can get out of here? Unless you want to spend more time holding each other like a couple of girls? I guess I could wait around while you do some more of that.” John’s tone clearly indicated he had no time for such girly bullshit.

Without speaking, Dean and Sam moved to pack their duffels, unable to meet each other’s eyes. John watched them and wondered exactly what he’d walked in on just a few minutes earlier. He wanted the boys to be close and to have each other’s backs, but prolonged hugging… John was having a hard time processing that. And the way they jumped apart… like they didn’t want him to see. 

_Soul mates._

John pretended he’d never heard of a psychic named Missouri as he grabbed his duffel and went to the door. He paused and looked back at the boys. “See you in the car.”

When John left, Dean looked at Sam. “Dude – why did you have to antagonize him?”

Sam looked at Dean. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Sam sighed and then continued in a whisper. “It’s just that… I was feeling better about stuff… when… when we were hugging… and then he ruined it all over again.” 

Sam leaned down to grab his duffel. When he turned, Dean was right beside him.

Dean threw an arm around Sam, pulling him close for a brief moment. “I was feeling better, too, Sammy.” Dean placed a soft kiss on Sam’s cheek. “I miss holding you at night.” Dean didn’t wait for a response; he just went toward the door, trusting Sam would follow.

Minutes later, a demon rammed the Impala with a semi, injuring John and Sam badly and leaving Dean near death.


End file.
